James Stormcaller and The Walnut Court
by Baked The Author
Summary: Abandoned by his Uncle after one magical accident too many, a more inquisitive and adventurous Harry sets out to learn about the magic of nature in the Forest of Dean! Along the way, he meets spirits, magical creatures, fairies, and learns of a hidden world. AU/Shaman!Harry "Foxes! Fairies! Ghosts! Songs! Tree-house! Land-lady!" "VERA!" "What?" rated T for mild language and action
1. The Boy Who Speaks to Trees

**Harry Potter is the property of a rather upstanding and dashing lady by the name of Joanne Rowling, who gave us all permission to play in her sandbox.**

 **I own nothing, save a keyboard and a mind full of ideas.**

 **Enjoy 3**

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What is magic?

What a fascinating question. Small surprise that you ask such a thing, innocent young man that you are.

In my long existence, I have come to realize that it is not the philosopher who asks the wisest questions, nor the hermit, nor the druid, nay, not even the emperor, though such beings are oft surrounded by intelligent advisors who think themselves wise; fools, seeking to shape the world that has shaped _them_.

Tis children who look at the world and _wonder_ , and in wondering, ask the questions that _must_ be asked; ha, please forgive this old lizard for rambling. I shall answer your question in brief.

Look about you, child, and tell me what you see.

Mountains? Yes, they are very tall, aren't they? Do you see the trees, growing on their knees and shins, or the grand eagles that nest upon their chests and shoulders?

No? You see no knees or shins or chests or shoulders, only stone? Tis perhaps not too late, then, for you to understand. Patience, child. Be as the mountain, and _listen_.

Do you hear the wind, blowing warm tidings from the west? Do you hear the grass about us, singing for the coming rain? Hahaha, of course you don't! And just because there is no cloud in the sky does not mean t'will not shower tonight or tomorrow!

But you hear none of this, because you're not _listening_. Oh, verily, you _hear_ the world about you, but you're not _listening to it_.

In the same way, to _understand_ magic, you must first learn to _listen_ to magic. You wish to learn how? Well, a hint I have for you, and a warning.

Firstly, your advice: magic is _alive_ , in the same way you are and, yet, not. It waits for those with the talent to shape it, and will leap to your will should your cause be just. Listen for it, learn from it, respect its power, and your path will become clearer.

But if this is the path you _truly_ wish to walk, then, child, I caution you: it is a difficult path, harder than the ease you would find in civilization, for though such a path leads to wonders great and glorious, there is darkness in the world, brought here by the blackest of deeds, seeking to ensnare the unwary and corrupt them to wicked purpose.

So if you walk the true path of magic, child, then take heed; for there is darkness in the world, worse than even the Dark Lords of old, who, before their end, learnt the bitterest lesson:

 _If you listen for the darkness, know that the darkness listens for you._

-Introduction to _The Magic of Nature_ , by Jardine Gwinnett, Berlin Publishers LTD, 1912  
BOOK RESTRICTED UNDER I.C.W. ARTICLE 17, CLAUSE 2b  
GENEVA CONVENTION OF 1956

The answer to a question posed to  
Persephone, The Fangs of Winter, Last of the High Dragons  
by a ten-year-old Gellert Grindelwald  
Austria  
June 1893

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 **James Stormcaller and The Walnut Court**

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 **Chapter 1:  
The Boy Who Speaks to Trees**

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As a nine-year-old Harry Potter watched his Uncle Vernon drive out of the nature preserve's parking lot, he realized that he'd just been abandoned.

It wasn't _too_ surprising to the black-haired boy; after all, his relatives didn't much like him. Harry, as he got older and learned about the world around him, didn't much understand _why_ they didn't like him; he was well behaved, did all his chores in an efficient manner, and got good grades in school (not that he liked school much, as his teachers would yell at him for doodling during maths, but he wanted to do well there, as he had a thirst for knowledge that was only matched by his hunger for a good adventure).

Last year, though, he found out why they called him 'freak' sometimes: he had a Power in him.

Harry didn't know what else to call it after discovering it, running from his cousin's gang of bullies and, _suddenly_ , he squeezed himself through the eye of a needle and was on top of the school! His Uncle had been furious, but Harry was used to his Uncle being mad at him; there were more important things to think about at the time, anyway.

Such as the fact that he'd _teleported_ just by wanting to be safe!

So Harry Potter did what he usually did when he had a question that needed answering: he went to the library.

His school's library was smaller than the one near his relative's house, but he'd found books on history there, ones that were better than the heavy, unhelpful book his teacher had given him, and it was easier to access than the bigger library. The stories in those books were more detailed than the one in his class textbook, so, Harry thought, they might have a book about people who used Power.

But there was nothing in the History section about people using Power! Just a bunch of vague stories about burning witches and claims that 'magic isn't real'. Or bad. But Harry wasn't using magic, he was using Power, so he didn't have to worry about getting burned for being a witch.

There weren't any books at his school that talked about his Power, though he did learn a lot about surviving in the wild. Useful stuff, that. Harry started gathering things he found lying around outside, in case he needed to make something; he kept them in a tattered canvas backpack he found in the public park.

Nice looking rocks, feathers, sturdy branches, string and wire (he found those most often, next to loose buttons), even animal bones! All of it went into the bag; the book he'd read on survival said that _anything_ he found could be useful in a dire situation, and Harry took that lesson to heart.

Hiding his loot from his relatives wasn't hard, because Harry could be sneaky if he wanted to be; just like his teleport was his Power saying 'safety', Harry found a few weeks later that if he _really_ concentrated on being 'unseen', no one would notice him. He started going 'unseen' more often, slipping off to the Surrey Public Library after school, searching for a clue to the source of his Power, or scavenging the neighborhood for useful items before garbage day.

Then, three months before he watched his Uncle drive away, Harry had a breakthrough.

He found out about Shamanism.

Talking to the Earth? To spirits? Turning into animals, or even smoke?! That sounded like what Harry was looking for!

Harry spent the whole summer learning how to become a shaman: first, he meditated to find what the books called 'his center', but that was just another word for Power, Harry figured. That part was easy; Harry was good at clearing his mind of distractions from living in his cupboard under the stairs.

When he found his Power, Harry nearly cried out in surprise! At first, his Power seemed to be a large ball of flame, like the Sun; but when he touched it, it _jumped_!

It also cleaned all the dirt from inside his cupboard, probably because Harry had been thinking about cleaning his relative's house to help himself focus.

Harry spent the next few weeks getting a good feel for his Power, not wanting to make a mistake and burn the house down; his Uncle probably wouldn't understand if Harry said it was an accident.

He stumbled into the next step on the Shaman path when Harry tried listening to his Power near a copse of trees in the local park. After a few minutes of meditating, Harry could hear someone grumbling to themselves; focusing his Power on listening to the voice, Harry could suddenly hear it clearly; it sounded like a grumpy old man, and it was coming from the oak tree he was leaning against!

' _Silly bloody squirrels, get out of my branches! Out, I say! Stealing my acorns and chewing at my bark, chattering about nothing all night and day! Ruddy fancy rats, you are! Out!_ '

Harry blinked as the tree went on grumbling about the chittering squirrels in its branches; it seemed rather cranky, for a tree. But what did Harry know about being a tree?

To wit, he went over to a smaller, nice looking beech, and, placing a hand on its trunk, asked, "Excuse me, and I don't mean to bother you, but I have a few questions."

Unfortunately, this tree was no nicer than the oak, ' _Eww! Away with you, greasy meat-thing! Stop touching me! It's already hard enough to breathe with all of you making a mess!_ '

After that, Harry decided not to try talking to trees in the city. They didn't seem to like human beings very much. Instead, he started on the next part of the Shaman path: crafting his staff and spirit-rattle.

This part was harder: he needed things that were not only personal, but that channeled his Power well. Harry also had to hide his work from his Aunt and Uncle, as they'd probably say he was being 'freakish' and punish him.

The staff was actually pretty easy to hide: Harry found he could make things shrink or grow by gripping his Power and thinking 'smaller' or 'bigger', so he kept his staff (a five-foot-long piece of driftwood with a gnarled head) in a pocket of his hand-me-down trousers, just in case he found a new piece of ribbon or a feather that would go well with it. But Harry had to be careful to think 'stop' at the right time, or the item would keep growing until it was the size of a house, or shrinking into nothing!

Harry had to start over once, after shrinking his first staff to the size of a dust speck!

One thing that was special to Harry went on top of the staff: a green and black banded stone the size of his fist that he'd traded a squirrel (as they were much better behaved than the trees in the park, if prone to rambling about nothing for minutes at a time!) four hazelnuts for. Reading up on it in a book about rocks told him the rock was called malachite; another book about the spiritual meaning of gemstones told him the rough green rock was good for healing and transformation, and protected travelers!

So Harry tied it to the gnarled head of his staff with a strip of faded purple velvet he'd pulled off a broken chair left on the curb; Harry reasoned that the velvet had once supported others and made them comfortable, so maybe it would help the malachite feel at home, too!

According to the books he'd read (Harry had started reading fiction, as it made more sense than the _Life_ or _Times_ articles on Shamanism, especially the works of Tolkien, where he'd learnt Quenya and how to respect nature from Elves, Ents, Hobbits and Bombadil), his "wizard's staff" would allow him a better connection to the Powers of Nature: wind, earth, water and fire.

Around his birthday, a week before Harry found himself sighing sadly in the parking lot near the Forest of Dean, he found himself hesitantly completing his spirit-rattle.

The books on Shamans said that they were simple things, a piece of bone with a bunch of things that made noise attached. Harry saw the real problem right away, though: most of the rattle was made of _dead animal parts_.

Good thing Harry wasn't squeamish. He also cleaned the parts he found lying about with the hose or basement sink, so his relatives wouldn't make a fuss about the smell.

The two most important parts needed to be a hollow bone filled with small stones and nuts-in-the-shell, and something close to his heart; again, from what Harry read of Shamans, adding a personal piece of his life would amplify the rattle's aura and allow Harry to commune with the final Power of Nature, Spirits.

When he was seven, he'd been given a charm bracelet from a girl in his class for Valentine's Day; she was lonely too, and didn't have many friends because she sounded like a chipmunk when she talked, and her bushy hair hadn't helped. But she'd made friends with Harry over their shared love of books, and in the two weeks his cousin had allowed it, they'd dreamt up adventures together, based on western dime-novels like Indiana Jones and King Solomon's Mines.

He was James, a rough-and-tumble explorer out for adventure with his trusty dragon-hide whip, and she was Jean, an expert on ancient history who tried to keep her good friend out of trouble, to mixed success!

It was fun…until Dudley bullied her. Then Harry got beaten up for defending Jean (he'd forgotten her real name, but it started with an 'H'); and then she'd gotten transferred to a different school for smart kids. But James kept the bracelet. He'd given Jean a round, glittering stone after they'd been friends for a week, a prize from an adventure during a class field trip to South Downs National Park; the book on stones said it was called gneiss, and the spirit book said it helped with calming the mind in rough times.

Harry hoped Jean still had the stone as he attached the bracelet she gave him to the rattle, right next to the owl skull that was the head of the rattle; he'd added feathers, a string holding beads and buttons, and some furs from discarded coats. Smiling to himself in his cupboard, Harry felt the deer rib handle grow a bit warmer to the touch. Now, he just needed to call a spirit!

That night, two days before Harry's Uncle drove him away from Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry went out into the backyard, cleared his mind, and shook his rattle once.

And immediately stopped, as his Power had _shaken like an earthquake_! Something told Harry that shaking the rattle here was a _very bad idea_!

So Harry shrank the rattle down, wrapped it in a napkin for safety, and put it in his backpack; he'd have to try shaking the rattle in a forest, or somewhere better connected to nature, Harry figured as he drifted off to sleep.

The next day, he was woken to the sounds of his relatives screaming! Looking out the slit in his cupboard, Harry was surprised to find the house filled with animals!

Rabbits and chipmunks and squirrels and field-mice and raccoons! Even a skunk or two had moved in while Harry had slept!

"BOY! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAVE YOU DONE THIS TIME?!" Harry also hadn't _ever_ heard his Uncle so mad before.

Convincing the animals to leave was as easy as saying 'exterminator' in their presence, but the mess they'd left had his Aunt bursting into tears. Harry _tried_ explaining that it was a mistake, but his Uncle was _really_ mad and didn't listen. Harry spent the day in his cupboard, keeping quiet as hired professional cleaners undid the mess and his relatives spent the day at an amusement park.

Then, the next morning, his Uncle had opened the cupboard and told him to grab whatever Harry didn't want thrown away. Harry grabbed his pack, his threadbare blanket, a baseball cap (Harry didn't like people looking at his scar) and his knight figures; the mattress was too stiff for Harry to easily move, so it stayed behind.

Two hours later, Harry was standing under cloudy skies at the entrance to the Forest of Dean, watching his Uncle drive off, his last sneering words echoing in his ears, ' _If you want to do freakish things with nature, then you'll be right at home here_!'

Sighing sadly, Harry realized he'd _really_ messed up this time; his Uncle had even left him a suitcase, obviously second-hand, no doubt filled with the barest essentials. He probably wasn't coming back.

Shaking off the sadness at being abandoned, figuring he should try making the most of this situation, Harry opened the suitcase to check its contents: a battered steel flask for water, a jar of peanut butter (thankfully full), a new loaf of sliced wheat bread, two apples, an electric lantern with replacement batteries, and a small sleeping bag (also second-hand, if the dirt stains were any indication).

' _Good thing I took that pocket knife off Dudley_ ,' thought Harry as he closed the suitcase and pulled off his backpack, ' _Vernon didn't even give me any rope. What's an adventure without rope_?'

Resolving to make some, Harry pulled out his staff and, making sure no one was around to see, unshrunk it and laid it down carefully. His spirit-rattle was next, secured in a belt loop in his oversized trousers.

Now, for his backpack items: all three balls of thread (green yarn, hemp twine, and good nylon cord), his stones (mostly interesting plain stones that sparkled or shimmered in the light, with two raw amethysts, a mother-of-pearl shell, petrified twig, a small coinpurse half-full with rough pink quartz pieces, and a flat piece of obsidian the size of his palm) all wrapped in a piece of denim, a butterfly knife Dudley threw away after getting bored with it, along with his cousin's broken air rifle, a brass compass and sailor's spyglass (the things people throw away!), two sets of clean, if somewhat worn, clothing, and a few library books on Shamanism, British wildlife and geology, wilderness survival, and his copy of Tolkien's _Silmarillion_ (found at the thrift store near the library, and who puts a first edition Tolkien in the _bargain bin_?!), which he was learning Quenya from.

Why learn a fictional language? Well, Harry _had_ read that a big part of being a Shaman was singing to nature, and Finrod had battled Sauron with songs, as had Luthien against Morgoth, and Orpheus in Greek mythology had sung his way through the Underworld, and the Valar had made so much with only music! So Harry resolved to learn the language that shaped the world! He hoped it would work.

Gathering up his backpack and battered suitcase, Harry gripped his staff and looked at the forest around him.

It reminded the young Shaman-in-training of South Downs, except wilder; he could barely hear the sounds of people anymore with all the birds chirping around him and the trees sighing in the warm summer breeze. Smiling to himself at the peacefulness of this place, Harry ignored the footpath and began walking north into the trees, stretching his Power and listening for any conversations the trees might be having.

He wasn't disappointed. After only a moment, he picked up a quiet conversation between a sweet chestnut and an ancient-looking ash.

' _I say, lad,_ ' the ash commented, ' _The North Wind brings such strange tidings these days!_ '

' _Hmm_ , _too right, old sport_ ,' agreed the chestnut as Harry began approaching the two, ' _To think that airy fairy had such a temper, all this time!_ '

' _Bah, serves those catfish right, if you ask me! Especially after that poor fawn went to wade in the shallows and got bit on the leg by those nuisances! Good riddance, I say!_ ' harrumphed the ash before apparently noticing Harry walking into the chestnut's shade, ' _But what's this, now! Lad, you've got a human taking a stroll in your shadow._ '

"Good morning, sirs," greeted Harry politely, causing both trees to gasp in surprise, "May I say, you're both looking fine today."

' _Ha, indeed little one!_ ' barked the chestnut in good humor, ' _Better than the copse across the way, too close to the road to hear the Winds, them!_ '

' _Hush up over there!_ ' called a nearby larch, ' _I'm trying to listen to news from the boar farm! Some scandal involving the owner's daughter and the miller's apprentice is underway!_ '

' _You and your gossip, it's a wonder you still have branches with all the listening you do_!' another chestnut tsk'ed breezily to much laughter from their neighbors and a sophisticated snort from the larch.

Harry laughed with them; these trees were much better behaved than the ones near Privet Drive! Maybe they could help him on his path, "I was wondering, actually, if any of you know of a place that would be good for me to listen."

' _Oh, is that all?_ ' chuckled the ash good-naturedly, ' _Just reach out with your branches_ -'

' _Oi, geezer,_ ' huffed a distinguished-looking beech, ' _Humans don't have branches, they have things called hands_. _See how this one grips their walking stick?_ '

' _So_ that's _what those are called…Forgive me_ ,' the ash apologized, ' _but they certainly_ look _like branches_ ,' the tree's leaves shuddered as it did the equivalent of clearing its throat, ' _Well…For you humans, there's a good spot a ways north from here where the trees are older-'_

 _'Oh, but take care laddie_!' the first chestnut warned, ' _There's fairies up that way, and they don't take kindly to humans snooping about like boarhounds_.'

Harry blinked in surprise as the other trees made various noises of agreement. He didn't know fairies were real, and said so, adding, "Surely you're not mistaking them for dragonflies or finches, good sirs?"

The beech answered Harry, ' _Ah, you must've come from the mundane world. Well, boy who talks to trees, you'll do well to remember that all myths have_ some _truth to them, no matter how fantastic_ ,' the other trees around Harry gave hums and grunts of agreement, branches creaking and leaves fluttering in the warm West Wind.

' _After all,_ ' the ash added with humor in its tone, ' _Are you not speaking to the forest? Verily, in all my many summers I've not heard of such a thing occurring!_ ' amidst more hums of agreement, it went on in a curious tone, ' _What manner of human are you, then, who speaks with the forest_?'

Normally, Harry would have given his name, and almost did; but he remembered that he was on an adventure, to discover the ways of the Shaman in nature! Plus, he was leaving his old life of misery and disappointment behind, Dursleys, bullies, drunk parents who died and all!

So, he'd need a new name…well, James was his adventuring fallback, but his last name? Then, inspiration struck! His scar looked like a lightning bolt, so…

"I'm James Stormcaller, Shaman-in-training," he replied with a grin, giving a little bow of respect, "It's nice to meet you all."

The ash chuckled, as did many of the other trees, ' _Haha! Well met, Stormcaller!' 'Don't be bringing any typhoons around, now!' 'Aye! No need, with the warm front coming through tomorrow!'_

James laughed with them; these really were nice trees. But the sun was getting higher into the sky, so he bid the trees farewell fondly, "I'll head north then, and watch out for fairies. Thank you all, may you never rot!"

This was apparently the right thing to say, as the trees rattled their branches happily in the wind and the larch commented, ' _Oh, so polite!_ ' The ash bid him farewell as well, ' _And may your feet never fail you, young one! If you go north, seek out the circle of stones; that's a good place to listen, or so we, the Forest of Dean, hear_.'

Bidding farewell once more, James walked away north in high spirits, listening for trees that sounded older and keeping a weather eye out for stone circles. With each step and tap of his staff, he felt the comforting warmth of the forest watching out for him.

' _The forest for the trees…I think I understand, now_ ,' James mused as he walked in the green-lit shade, the clouds parting to let in the sun, much to the joy of all the nature around him.

The boy lost sight of the paths quickly, vanishing into the deep shadows of the Forest of Dean.

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 **A/N:**

 **The plot-bunny of doom strikes again!**

 **I came up with this idea while at work, much like my other two stories. This one though…it might be a little bit longer. Like, multiple stories longer. On the other hand, chapters for this will be shorter.**

 **Therefore, please check my profile for the update rotation!**

 **Tell me what ya think! I'll see you all next chapter!**

 **~Baked**


	2. Into the Forest

**Dame Rowling owns Harry Potter. I don't. Pity, that.  
I own a keyboard and have internet access, so you're getting a new chapter!  
Enjoy!**

 **EDIT, 7/10/2018: Re-did the pre-chapter historical entry.**

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 **PUBLIC COPY**

 **INTERNAL MEMO**

 **Attn: All DoM Agents and Staff  
From: DoM Assistant Head of [REDACTED]  
Re: Incident [REDACTED]**

There seems to be some confusion regarding this event, and the Boss has asked me to clarify exactly _why_ no one can remember where most of the stone circles in [REDACTED] are.

The short answer is that our Agents, at my behest, placed a _Fidellus Mortus_ on the [REDACTED] so that what happened near [REDACTED] doesn't happen again. If it weren't for our quick response time to the incident, the Statute would have been irrecoverably broken; as those in the Ministry Department of International Magical Cooperation can no doubt tell you, the ICW is quite hacked off that the [REDACTED] was nearly broken by a couple drunk Purebloods, not to mention that I've been in meetings all week assuring said big hats that _this will never happen again_. And it _had better not_.

For those of you who have been out of the country and still don't know, three wizards, [NAME EXPUNGED], [NAME EXPUNGED] and [NAME EXPUNGED], drunk on Firewhiskey, kidnapped a young Muggle woman, and took her to the circle at [REDACTED].

[3 PARAGRAPHS OF REDACTED TEXT]

Therefore, I don't think it needs to be said that placing _Fidellus Mortus_ on the entire [REDACTED] was the _least_ we could do. We've already salted the earth, and several Druids are still purifying the surrounding lands, so quit asking me why you can't remember the plans you made for the Solstice or you have research missing as a result. Get over it.

Finally, we've put out a separate memo and have prepared information brochures on stone circles for the Ministry and public, respectively. You're not children by any stretch of the imagination, but I'll say it anyway:

DO NOT USE MAGIC IN A CIRCLE THAT ISN'T ON THE ATTATCHED LIST!

For [EXPLETIVE DELETED] sake, people, if you find or happen to know of a circle that isn't on that list, bring it to [REDACTED] or a _responsible_ Druid so we can figure out if there's any taint and cleanse it! Before this happened, we'd gone 245 years without an incident, but it's clear putting signs that say DO NOT ENTER isn't sufficient to keep some drunks from accidentally summoning one of _THEM_. Looking at you, Michelson; _stop whining and put the bloody wards up,_ **or else**.

And if it _somehow_ still isn't clear what's got the Boss' knickers in a twist, see Incident Record H-1433b-12Q, and use your imagination.

-Public copy of an internal memo  
released to the British Department of Mysteries  
following the accidental summoning of a malevolent spirit  
which claimed the lives of 12 Muggles and 6 DoM Agents  
before being banished  
May, 1923

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 **Chapter 2:  
Into the Forest**

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It was two hours of walking and one sandwich later that James came across a strange part of the forest. The sounds of nature were still around him, and the trees were humming contentedly in the warm breeze blowing though their leaves, but something felt… off, to James.

' _Just go North, find the stone circle_ ,' thought James as he gazed at the sight before him, ' _Easier said than done…_ '

In front of James were the tallest trees he'd ever seen; trunks as wide as his relative's house, with branches reaching up to the sky, they were like mountains to the child standing just outside their eaves. At their feet, large roots wound between each tree, making it hard to see the ground through a thick moss covering every root and patch of dirt, a rolling green carpet as far as James could see; which wasn't far at all. The tree's branches and leaves were so thick that the Sun's light barely touched the ground; further in, everything was shrouded in a deep gloom. He couldn't see more than a hundred feet or so into this forest!

The strange thing about this place was that James hadn't been able to see it until he was right at its edge; he'd walked around a tree about thirty paces back and suddenly, these massive oaks, beeches, chestnuts and ashes were right in front of him!

Biting his lip, the shaman-in-training tried to figure this mystery out logically, like Jean would do if she were here, ' _Maybe it's like my 'Unseen' ability; no one can see it unless you're right near it. Wow, it must be hard hiding an entire forest! Maybe the faeries that nice chestnut warned me about have something to do with it…_ '

Another idea came to James, then, ' _If it's made of Power… I wonder if I can feel it_ …' The young shaman tapped his staff against the ground and let his Power flow through the wood and into the soil; he'd found, as he was walking this way, that the ground conducted Power very well, allowing James a heightened awareness of the world around him.

Gently clearing his mind, eyes lidded but focused, James directed his Power to examine the area in front of him; at first, he felt and heard nothing but the contented dreams of the earth and the quiet hums and sighs of the ancient oaks as they basked in the sun and breeze.

Then, it came: a faint feeling, like brushing a hand through a curtain of fine lace, or running his fingertips through a pool of warm, still water; it certainly felt like James' 'Unseen' ability, but with other things that he wasn't familiar with mixed in, all of which had to do with hiding things! Pulling back on his Power, James looked at the strange forest with an awed expression, ' _Someone must have hid this part of the forest! Is it another Shaman, or Power user? The faeries?_ ' Shaking off the surprise at, apparently, finding a place that was hidden with Power, he resolved to get to the bottom of this mystery place!

' _One last thing, though,_ ' pulling out his brass compass, James glanced at the needle to make sure he was on the right track; it was still pointing North, but… the needle was twitching from side to side!

Blinking, the young Shaman wracked his mind, trying to remember if there was anything he'd read about that could interfere with a compass needle, ' _It points_ north _when I'm in the Northern Hemisphere… but there's certain places where Earth's magnetism can disrupt the needle, like volcanoes and the like,_ but _, again, I'm nowhere near anything like that. Is it Power? Maybe…_ ,' James looked up at the trees before him again, contemplating what he felt in the nature around him, ' _Maybe, when there's a lot of power in one place… it can make compasses act weird. Oh, I wish Jean were here to help me figure all this out! A_ real adventure _, and-,_ ' James gasped suddenly, ' _I FORGOT MY NOTEBOOKS! Oh, darn! Jean's going to be_ so mad _, when I find her again! All these discoveries I've already made, and I can't take notes!_ '

James sighed regretfully; he really should've thought to bring his school bag with him… ' _Well,_ ' he thought, stuffing the compass back in his pocket and picking up his battered suitcase again, ' _Nothing for it! Onward!_ ' Away James strode, into the shade of the ancient forest.

A dozen strides later, he decided to look back; the normal Forest of Dean looked so small and young, compared to this place. Gulping back his fear, he turned toward the deep green darkness that marked his path.

' _No fear. Fear is the mind-killer_ ,' squaring his shoulders and putting on a determined face, James Stormcaller strode carefully forward, his staff tapping the moss-covered roots and green eyes flicking side to side as the dark enveloped him.

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Though James didn't know it, as soon as he entered the forest, a wardstone under the front lawn of Number 4, Privet Drive began to lose power.

He would also never know that, at the exact same moment, a series of spindly silver instruments in a castle tower far away in northern Scotland ceased to function; their owner, away on important business on the continent, wouldn't notice for a week.

By then it would be too late.

Harry Potter, now James Stormcaller, was hidden from all eyes. He would not speak to another human for many months to come.

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Sitting on a great root, about an hour into the dark forest, James frowned at the lantern in his hand, ' _Broken light bulb. Of course…_ ' He sighed, wondering what he, personally, did to make Vernon hate him so, recent events notwithstanding.

The world around James reminded him of a passage from _The Silmarillion_ : "…trees whose tops were crowned with cloud as they were living mountains, but whose feet were wrapped in green twilight." That was what this forest was like, a dark hall with massive dark brown monoliths seeming to hold up the viridian sky, the rare sunbeam slipping through its canopy to light a mossy mound covered in blue flowers, or pools of stagnant water, mayflies and mosquitos buzzing over them as they went about their brief lives.

It was beautiful, but James' Power told him there was something different here: amidst the earthy scents of the forest and the contented waves of Life flowing uninterrupted was a bitter undertone. A metallic scraping, distant and old seemed to come like a far-off whisper to his ears whenever he tried to Listen; it made James wary of this place, as it seemed like trouble might be ahead.

' _Not that I'm not in trouble as is_ ,' mused James to himself as he set the broken lantern back in the now-empty suitcase, having moved all the supplies to his backpack; hiding the suitcase in the roots of the tree he'd been resting beneath, the young Shaman's gaze fell back on his compass.

Its needle was waving back and forth erratically between East-Northeast and West-Northwest, jittering the whole way; he hoped he was going in the right direction. The only other forest he'd been in, on the school field trip a year ago, had well-signposted trails, and there were certainly no hidden old-growth forests that made compasses misbehave!

Settling his backpack on his shoulders, James took off his hat and squinted in the direction North _should_ be in; from the looks of things, he'd have to go uphill and over all these huge, twisting roots to get to the circle.

' _Well, if it wasn't going to be difficult, it wouldn't be much of an adventure!_ ' James thought as he began determinedly walking again, staff thumping along as he used it to balance himself as footing became more treacherous, ' _Besides, the destination's worth it; a secret stone circle, in a hidden forest rumored to have_ faeries _, of all things, living in it! I might have to send Uncle Vernon a thank-you card-wha?!_ '

The last part of that thought had less to do with him thanking his Uncle for _anything_ and more to do with the massive tree roots that were suddenly blocking his path!

' _Where'd those come from?_ ' wondered James, having not felt any shift in the land around him; he looked left and right to see if there was a way around this blockage, to find himself boxed in by thick, dirt covered roots in every direction except back the way he came. James frowned, feeling Power lace the air around him through his staff, as the air became colder and a small voice, probably trying to be spooky, filled the clearing.

" **Turn back, monkey** ," it said, making James raise an eyebrow; was this a prank? " **Turn back, you're unworthy of this place-place-** place-place… _place… place_ …" Yeah, this was a prank.

Then James blinked, ' _Oh crap. Faeries are pranking me!_ ' He'd read a few stories about the creatures (mostly at Jean's insistence), and knew that they could be quite pesky indeed; which would be an understatement for the (alleged, in James' opinion) more powerful breeds of Fae folk, some of which could tear a person apart with a _thought_! Considering the simplicity of this 'prank', such as it was, he was probably dealing with a few of the weaker faeries living around here; they probably saw him walking about and decided to have a lark at his expense.

James smiled and shook his head; when he'd found out about his Unseen ability, one of the toughest things he'd dealt with was making himself Seen again. After a while, he found he could turn it off by imagining a gust of wind and thrusting his Power out of himself, blowing the Unseen… cloak, he supposed, away! ' _That should work here too,_ ' thought James as he swirled Power through his staff, into the tree roots, and directed it beneath the, what he assumed were, illusory roots.

Figuring he shouldn't antagonize them _much_ , James called, "Nice try!" and, directing the Power he'd sent out, rapped the butt of his staff against the soil and blew the faerie-made illusions away.

There was a sound, like a stone plopping into a pond, and the way ahead cleared up! There was even sunlight, seen through the trees a ways up the hill! Grinning, James began moving a bit faster, but keeping his Sense ability sharper; those faeries really snuck up on him, but he could Sense them now, like three little buzzing balls of static electricity that nonetheless felt very… forest-y, to James anyway, about thirty feet to his left and hiding behind some roots.

Confident that he wouldn't be caught unawares again, James soldiered on a bit faster to the light, which was hopefully the location of the circle.

 **[..|..]**

Meanwhile, lying on her back behind a tree root, Breech was freaking out!

She and her brothers, Snapper and Louie, had been out looking for mushrooms, minding their own business, when they'd seen a human walking through the forest! While this wasn't _unheard_ of, this one smelt like he'd come from the Muddy world, and was a little kid at that! Figuring they should be good neighbors (Muddy kids could get hurt in these parts, after all!), they set up an illusion to scare the pretend druid ( _snicker_ ) back to his family… or wherever he came from… or just for laughs, in case he was the spoiled son of some rich wand-waver in disguise or something!

It wouldn't be the first wand-waver they'd driven off, after all.

But then, right when Bree was about to break out the rattling chains and thudding feet, the kid snarks " _Nice try!_ " at them and obliterates Snap and Lou's illusions, all in one go! To top the whole thing off, the three faeries now had _frizzy hair_ , from the sheer amount of raw magic that puny human threw at them, _and_ they'd been knocked flat on their wings!

So, yes, Bree felt quite justified in her panic.

" _Winter_ , what was that?!" whispered Lou from where he was sprawled out on the ground next to Sam.

Springing back up to the edge of the root, Bree watched the kid continue to climb the hill right in the direction of the stone circle. "He must be a wand-waver, a sorcerer's apprentice that found out about this place," she mused out loud in her squeaky voice as her brothers joined her.

"Are we gonna just let a wand-waver strut up to the circle like it's nothing, then?" Snap put in, wings jittering in agitation.

" _You_ ," Breech snapped, pointing at Snap, "are gonna go get Landlady. Tell her some kid blasted through our illusions like they were nothing; me an' Lou-"

"Lou and _I_ ," corrected her youngest brother, not that Bree cared.

As she carried on as though Lou had said nothing, "-are gonna follow him, make sure he doesn't do anythin' dumb like-like… I dunno, summon one of the big hats?" Bree shuddered along with her brothers; the idea of some idiot kid summoning one of the Court Knights by accident was too terrible to give voice to.

Not to mention how angry Landlady would be, if they survived.

So it was that Snap shot away to find Landlady while his siblings followed the strange kid at a distance; as the lad neared the top of the hill, Louie worriedly asked Bree, "What if he _does_ call one of the Knights, Bree?"

The young faerie adjusted her ash-leaf overalls and sneered, "Then _we_ bugger off home while the big-hat's distracted with the brat, and…" she gulped as said brat paused at the edge of the circle clearing, "hope to the Seasons the big-hat isn't one of the curious sorts."

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' _…Westgate has been hidden, guards in place, this is good… Through the storm they sailed and found port, he is home again, smells of lavender and cinnamon and her, the call of the sea quiets in her comforting embrace… Highgate remains broken, stones buried deep, none shall ever find it… His car hasn't started again so he will be late to work again and probably lose his job, doesn't know the homely woman he slapped in a bar a month ago is a witch, Hel hath no fury… Wealdgate has been corrupted, the Weave has been cut from it, safe but impure…_ '

James Listened raptly as the feminine voice prattled on from the edge of the forest clearing, wondering if _this_ was where he was supposed to be.

It surely _seemed_ that way; a ring of standing stones, like great grey potatoes with mossy coverings, made a ring around two menhirs that looked as though they'd once been an archway, though they were now cracked and leaning in the gnarled roots of an enormous, ancient yew growing between them. While not as large as the trees around them, the tree's branches still cast the dozen-or-so-feet-tall menhirs in shadow, reaching for the sky and the edges of the circle of stones.

James had seen pictures of ancient yews in his school library, but hadn't had the honor of seeing one in person; given the relative size of the stones standing in the two hundred foot wide clearing, it had to be over a thousand years old! The yellow and white dragon-snappers and daises scattered in its shade near the ring of boulders went well with the dandelions and nightshade blooming in the tall grass surrounding the circle.

That, and it was talking to itself constantly, the trees around it quietly ignoring the prattling old woman voice whispering, ' _…Twins in blood and soul share a glance and a grin, their little sister really wants to fly but their mother is too traditional, a plan forms in their shared minds, the eldest sibling will help them, no doubt… Another boy, now a man, sits across his grandfather and hands him the shard of green glass, the oldest tragedy is passed on… Rivergate is guarded, hidden, sealed, never again they say… This has all happened before, and will happen again…'_

Removing his shoes, as this place had a sacred feel to it, James stepped into the clearing and, removing his hat and standing straight, cleared his throat when the yew paused and spoke respectfully, "Good afternoon, venerable madam. May I rest in your shade?"

A jolt of surprise came from the ancient tree, followed by a feeling of warm wind suddenly rushing out from it and washing over James; after a pause, the yew spoke again, ' _…You are far from your home, child who Speaks and Listens. What has brought you here?_ '

Once again forcing down the sadness of being abandoned, James replied solemnly, "I'm a shaman-in-training, madam, but my relatives hate me for my abilities… So they left me at the edge of the Forest of Dean; some nice trees said this would be a good place to listen to the power of nature, so…" James shrugged; really, he hadn't thought this adventure completely through, and was beginning to think he might be in over his head.

' _Ah, so you wish to become a shaman… An odd choice, in these days_ ,' the yew replied in an interested tone, ' _Tell me young one, do you understand what such a path entails_?'

"Well," James began slowly approaching the circle, taking care not to step on any flowers, "it involves taking care of nature, speaking with spirits, and doing all sorts of amazing things, right?"

The yew gave a raspy laugh at that, its branches rustling in humor, ' _A small fragment of what a shaman could be, child… You come from the mundane world, yes? Those who live in the world of cold logic can never understand what it means to be Shaman."_

The boy stopped outside the ring of stones, frowning up at the great tree, "Have you known many shamans, then?"

' _No. But their ways are known to me_.'

Realization dawned in James' mind, "When you were talking to yourself… You were Listening, weren't you?"

' _My, how perceptive!_ ' the yew laughed, ' _Yes, child shaman; what know you of the stone circles that litter this land?_ '

"Erm… The ancient druids built them for various reasons," calling on his history research, James steadily answered the tree, "Some were built to their gods, some were used as seasonal calendars, and some… some were built to glorify nature, um, right?" He hoped he was right.

After a brief pause, the ancient yew said, ' _Somewhat. Sit in my shade, child shaman, and I shall tell you of the path you seek_.'

Grinning, James stepped between two of the outer stones, their mossy heads rising above his head; finding a sturdy root to sit on, he slung off his pack and leaned his staff against the great tree, asking innocently, "Do you have a name, madam?"

' _No. Do you?_ '

"I'm James Stormcaller. It's nice to meet you."

 _'Likewise. None of your kind has tread this land in many centuries, and never has a shaman visited here_ ,' the great yew replied, ' _At least, not so long as I've stood_.'

James was awed; how old _was_ this tree? "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but… how old are you, madam?"

' _Old enough to have witnessed the rise of three ages of man,_ ' was the yew's somber reply, ' _I was planted by a Roman girl who lived nearby with her family, one thousand, eight hundred springs past_.'

' _Blimey!_ ' James thought, eyes widening in awe, ' _That would make her one of the oldest free-standing yews in Britain!_ '

Before he could give voice to these thoughts, however, the yew went on, ' _But my history is boring and dry, and not what you are here to learn. You know how to listen to nature, and how to speak to it; verily, these are the first steps on the path of the shaman. I will tell you what I know, and then you may make your choice, so do not interrupt,_ ' she paused, James sitting up straight in eager attention and wishing, once again, he'd thought to bring his notebooks.

' _As you have no doubt learned, the mundane world sees shamans as those who speak with spirits in order to guide and heal those in their respective tribe_ ,' the yew patiently explained, ' _While not_ in _correct, it does not do the position justice; a_ true _Shaman, James Stormcaller, is a conduit for the will of Gaia, Mother Earth if you will. They are her caretakers, her emissaries and, in times of sorrow, her warriors and her judges; very few people can travel down the path of the true Shaman, however, as a true Shaman must have magical blood, otherwise they cannot take even the first step on that path._ '

James wanted to deny that he had magical blood, that he had Power in him instead, but the yew hadn't finished, so he kept quiet as she continued, ' _As for spirits, the true Shaman can not only speak with the souls of the departed but can also commune with the animal totems of the Spiritual Realms, though their spiritual familiar generally reflects their own personality; for example, the brave Shaman usually has a bear or monkey familiar, while the clever generally bond with ravens or foxes. It is good that you came here, actually_ ;' the yew's voice took on a mischievous tone as she concluded, ' _you see, young Shaman, the circle you sit in was of old called Rivergate, and was part of a network of thirty magical gateways throughout the world. In these places the fabric which separates this world and the Spiritual Realms is thinner than elsewhere; therefore, calling a spirit should be rather easy_.'

Blinking, James raised his hand and asked, "So… When you were rambling about Highgate and Westgate, you were Listening for the other gates?"

' _Yes. Though I should caution you, young Shaman: the gates were broken or sealed for a reason._ '

When she didn't continue, the boy sitting on her roots looked at the standing stones on either side of the yew; if what she was saying was true, those stones might once have been like the arches of Stonehenge, two stones holding up a capstone.

Shaking his head, James decided not to ask more about the gates; instead, he asked, "Why were the circles built, then?"

' _They were built so that the flow of nature would be tamed,_ ' the yew explained, ' _Most of them, anyway; those built in the highlands of Scotland have a more… sinister past. Without the taming of nature's flow, magic would still be wild, and the world would be a much different place._ '

"Different how?"

' _How to describe it? Imagine, young Stormcaller, a world where spirits walked the world in the same way a deer or bear does; where dreams could shape reality, or a hand gesture could change the flow of a great river. Such things are still_ possible _, of course, but they are much more controlled than they once were_.'

Drumming his fingers on his staff, James said slowly, "So… Without the circles… the world would be more chaotic?"

' _Perhaps._ '

The yew fell silent then, and James didn't try asking her any more questions; he felt he had enough to try calling a spirit. The only question left was what kind of spirit would he get?

Standing, he began pacing around the once-again muttering yew, thinking about what he should do. ' _From what the yew said, my spirit rattle should work really well here. But how will a spirit hear me_?' James stoked a finger over the rattle's rib-bone handle, taking comfort in its warmth. ' _Spirits might not like the mundane world… But if I become a caretaker to nature, like Yavanna… Maybe…_ '

James slid the rattle from his belt loop, looking at the charm bracelet Jean gave him. Gulping at the memory of the last time he did this, James stretched out his Power into the world around him.

And he _understood_!

The trees all around him pulsed with _life_ , and it was like the warmth of a fire to his senses! Beneath the circle, a river of… Power flowed through the ground, distant whispers coming from within it; James didn't know how, but he _knew_ that most of those whispers were coming from the Spirit Realms! Above his head, the wind brought tidings of _so many things_ that he couldn't comprehend them all, though he blushed when the boar farm scandal reached his mind!

' _Is this what it's like… to be a Shaman_?'

For a moment, it felt like James would be swept away, like a leaf on the wind, by the whirling of the world; were it not for his staff grounding him to the world he was in, James felt that he just might have been sent tumbling into one of the Spirit Realms!

As it was, he raised his spirit rattle slowly…

 _And shook it_.

' _Such a beautiful sound_ ,' thought James with a contented smile as he kept shaking the spirit rattle; it sounded like rain in a forest, pebbles shifting on a slope, wind in the fields, and the hissing of hot springs. A small voice in his head said he shouldn't know what any of those things sounded like, especially given his upbringing, but James didn't care; the music was too beautiful for him to doubt.

Beneath his feet, he felt eddies and currents forming in the river; there were spirits listening! Elated, James began to sing from his heart, though he didn't know where the words came from:

 _We've braved the forests, braved the stones;  
Braved the Dark, the brutal fire!  
Conquered countries, crowns and thrones,  
but we've never crossed the river…_

 _Oh, my friends, what have they done?  
So much stock in rage and muscle.  
So I'll open my heart and hands and soul,  
and help them cross the river!_

Twirling on the spot with his eyes closed, James kept up his rattling even as a soft drumbeat kept time with his rattle and a young girl's voice joined his.

 _What once was lost can now be found!  
In valleys deep, o'er mountains tall,  
beneath the seas, or tumbled wastes  
that is where we'll surely play!_

 _We'll pay no mind to gold or jewels!  
No to lies or weapons that kill!  
But yes to joining everyone's hands as one!  
Together!_

Rattle, rattle, drum-drum-drum!

 _Together!_

 _We'll show them how to cross the river!_

Thumping his staff against the ground to finish the song, James grinned hugely and laughed, "Wow! That was great!"

"I'll say!"

Spinning around so fast he fell on his rump, James looked at the top of the stone behind him, where the voice had come from.

There was a fox sitting on the stone! Its fur was white, with blue on the tips of its ears and its paws, and its whole body was shimmering like a river in the sun! It was also small; its ears would _probably_ make it halfway up James' thigh if it was sitting down.

It leapt off the stone and landed in front of James, and that's when he saw that it had _two tails_!

"Hi!" she said; James figured it was a she, given the pitch of her voice, "You sing really good and purely!"

"Err, thanks," he replied before shaking himself out of his surprise, "You sing really well too."

Bouncing on her paws and grinning, the fox asked excitedly, "You sang about adventure and putting things right! Are you a druid?!"

"Um, no. I'm a Shaman. My name's James," smiled James even as he thought in disbelief, ' _I'm talking to a fox!_ '

Said fox gasped, "A Shaman?! A Shaman! Ha-ha-ha!" she began bouncing in a circle around a now-surprised James and chattering excitedly, "I found a Shaman! I found a Shaman! I found a Shaman! Take _that_ big sis! Little Vera found a Shaman first! Ha-ha-ha!"

 _Thunk_! And she ran headfirst into James' staff.

"Oh! Are you okay?"

"Ouchie…"

Though neither being knew it then, this was the start of a beautiful and lasting friendship.

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 **A/N:**

 **That took _much_ longer than I thought it would. I blame my other stories, my fickle muse, and the brown lumpiness that is real life.**

 **Having said that, WOW! I can't believe how many people favorited and followed this story after just one chapter! I'll do my best to get the next one out in a timely fashion, you mark my words!**

 **The song is based on a much better song, ' _The Humbling River_ ' by Puscifer. Which I obviously don't own. I'm crap at poetry and songwriting, so I'll mostly be winging it for those parts.**

 ** _So much_** **research went into this chapter that it's almost scary; suffice to say I don't think I've ever read so much about trees, shamanism, and the differences between various Neolithic structures. Good thing I was on vacation…and then contracted a fever that's kept me out of work. :(**

 **Oh, but we've got Vera now! Next chapter will be partly about kitsunes, partly about… well, I don't want to give everything away!**

 **Reviews make Vera happy! And help the creative juices flow!**

 **~Baked**


	3. The Foxy Song

...

 **I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. Pity, that.  
I own a keyboard, have internet access, and a plethora of ideas for this story!  
Therefore, enjoy the latest chapter!**

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Concerning Kitsune

A kitsune, or fox-spirit, is most commonly found in eastern Asia, though there are records of sightings on every continent. While seeing one in the wild is rare, as these spirits keep to themselves in nature, they have been seen in the company of many a witch or wizard as a bonded familiar.

Kitsune are much like humans in that each one has its own individual personality, setting them apart from certain other animal-based spirits like bears (particularly vetfrir) or hemmravn that exhibit a more 'hive-mind' disposition. Additionally, kitsune exhibit an intelligence that varies with age, from near-human for the youngest to supernatural for the oldest.

Generally, these spirits have a strong affinity with the natural forces of our planet, namely Earth, Wind, Water and Fire; in most cases, their appearance will reflect their affinity. An Earth kitsune, for instance, will usually have brown, green or grey fur, while Wind kitsune will be some shade of blue or silver; Water kitsune vary between the deepest blue to a snow-white, with the tips of their fur being either color. Fire kitsune will be, predictably, a shade of yellow, orange, or red.

As most kitsune never leave the Spiritual Realms, it is unknown if there is an upper limit to their age; only one kitsune has remained in our Realm for an extended period of time: Kefka, a seven-tailed Fire-aligned female kitsune who, at the time of this writing, has been teaching Master-level Enchanting at the Ishtar Scriptorium in Babylon for three hundred years; prior to this, she was bonded to a Shaman living in Armenia for an unknown length of time. Additionally, most of the information on how kitsune gain tails comes from her.

According to Kefka, kitsune gain tails when two criteria are met: firstly, they must reach an advanced understanding of their nature; secondly, they must be a certain age. For example, a kitsune with four tails is _at least_ one hundred and twenty-five years old and at most two hundred and fifty. As the kitsune gets older, the rate of tail gain over time becomes longer and longer; the length of time between six and seven tails has been said to be as much as one _thousand_ years, with seven to eight being even longer. Additionally, the more tails a kitsune has, the larger they are; Kefka, for instance, is forty feet long from snout to tail tip, and thirteen feet tall when walking, fifteen when seated. A two-tailed kitsune would be around or slightly larger than an ordinary adult fox.

All kitsune are born with a single tail. No human has ever seen one, as these are nurtured and taught by matrons and patrons in their home Realm until they gain their second tail.

Two- and three-tailed kitsune are regarded by both kitsune and human society as adolescents and young adults, respectively; these are encouraged to go out into the world and explore, so they might gain experience and understanding of their affinities. Three-tails in particular are commonly found in the Far East as bonded familiars, or, in rare cases, join the Silk Road caravans as camp guards or scouts.

Four- and five-tailed kitsune, while not uncommon, are rarely found in the company of wizards; these are usually found near places where their affinity is strongest, preferably far away from human populations.

Six-tails and seven-tails have only ever been seen in the company of Shamans; given the hermit-like nature of most Shamans, sightings of these kitsune are incredibly rare. Kefka, in Babylon, is the only known example, though she has said that many Shamans throughout history have bonded with sixes or sevens.

Only one eight-tailed kitsune has ever been seen by human eyes: during the Black Decade, when the Dark Lord Herpo the Foul sought to drown the world in Darkness. An eight-tails joined the Coalition that formed in the wake of the destruction of Cilicia and the subsequent corruption of the High Dragon Ipsilion; the eight-tails was present for said High Dragon's demise in West Africa, two days before Herpo the Foul was slain in Syria. The details of these events are, of course, documented elsewhere.

Eight-tails are the elders of kitsune society and rarely leave the Spiritual Realms; much of what their duties entail, as well as the structure of said society, is shrouded in mystery. When asked for details, Kefka has invariably replied, "None of your business."

There is only one nine-tailed kitsune, the Kyuubi no Kitsune, literally Nine-Tailed Fox. It is regarded with reverence and some fear by all kitsune, who view it as a god. It has never been seen by human eyes. When asked of the nine-tails, Kefka replied, "If you ever see the Kyuubi no Kitsune, not only will _everyone_ know about it, it's probably the end of the world or something. It's not like he's going to come down from his mountain for a pie and a beer, after all."

It should also be noted that all kitsune have a strange sense of humor, and are not above pulling pranks for their own amusement, regardless of age.

Kitsune also have a long-standing grudge with the major Courts of the Fae Folk, particularly the Winter Court. The origin of this grudge apparently predates written records, and neither species will speak of what happened to cause this observed coolness toward each other. While neither camp is openly hostile to the other, it should be noted that it is inadvisable to bring a kitsune of any age into Fae-populated areas, and vice-versa.

-Excerpt from _Walking With Spirits: A Definitive Guide to the Denizens of the Spiritual Realms  
_ by Gorgio Potts, Machiavelli Publishing Co., Italy, 1813  
Chapter 4: The Spirit Totem, 4th Revised Edition, 1915

BOOK RESTRICTED UNDER I.C.W. ARTICLE 17, CLAUSE 2b  
GENEVA CONVENTION OF 1956  
BOOK BANNED IN MAGICAL BRITAIN AND GERMANY

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 **Chapter 3:  
The Foxy Song**

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"A _fox_ ," deadpanned Bree from next to Lou, crouched behind a root at the edge of the circle clearing, "The entire pantheon of the Spirit Realms to choose from, and the kid picks a smelly _fox_."

Breech and Louie had kept their distance from the kid, choosing to observe his actions rather than interfere; after all, Landlady _had_ told them all to stay away from the circle because bad things could come out of it if they messed around there. Bree's wings had jittered when the kid started singing and shaking that rattle of his, feeling powerful magic at work; for a moment, she thought something from the _Other Side_ would come through and tear everything apart.

Then a stupid _fox_ had appeared and started spazzing all over the place!

Lou nodded next to his sister, moving to fly, "That tears it, then. The kid's a menace; we should tell Landlady right away."

Waving her hand irritably at her brother, Bree kept her eyes on the two in the circle as she responded, "Snap's on that, we gotta keep an eye on these two in case they start causing trouble."

Spluttering, Lou ran clawed, tree bark-brown hands irritably through his stringy blue hair, "But _why_? We're faster than Snap," her brother whined while Breech rolled her purple eyes, "and it's not like there's anything _important_ around here that they can mess with! Kid's obviously a tree hugger, so he won't hurt the yew or break the circle!"

Whipping her orange-maned head around to glare at her brother, Bree snapped, "Because this is our _home_ , you dolt! What d'ya think Landlady would say if we just let some trespasser walk about unmarked?! Now shaddup so I can listen to what they're saying." Both young faeries glared at each other for a moment before Lou shrugged his shoulders and broke eye contact, resigning himself to the _boring_ task of watching some kid.

Satisfied, Bree turned back to the clearing… to find that something was _definitely_ missing, "Louie…?"

"Hmph?" her brother grunted.

"Where'd the brat go?"

The circle was, indeed, devoid of young boy or fox spirit, causing the two young Fae to start freaking out again; they buzzed on dragonfly wings into the clearing, searching for some sign of where the two had gone.

Unbeknownst to either faerie, the yew in the circle chuckled at their antics before going back to Listening to the world.

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" _Wow_ , this forest is amazing! It's so old! So much magic in everything! Not as much as back home, but for a forest in Mundus, it is _incredible_! So awesome!"

James grinned at the babbling mass of fur bouncing along at his side as they walked West of the circle; in just a matter of minutes, the kitsune, Vera, had identified the source of the bitterness he'd felt while journeying to the circle. It was about an hour's walk west of the circle; having nothing better to do, James decided they should check it out before finding somewhere safe and dry to sleep for the night. It was getting late in the afternoon, after all.

On top of that, Vera seemed to be a real chatterbox, not that James minded; he was grateful for the company. According to the white and blue kitsune, she was the youngest of a litter of twelve, and had been practicing her Listening near a river in the Spirit Realm when she heard his song; apparently, he was the first Shaman to sing for a spirit in more than a hundred years!

As they walked, James told Vera a little of his past with the Dursleys; she'd huffed and growled and said that she'd 'drop a lake on them, show those bullies what for!' if she ever met them. James liked Vera, she was just as fiery as he remembered Jean being!

Although… something had been bothering James since he'd first felt that bitterness in the world, "Hey, Vera? What _does_ that bitter feeling mean?"

The kitsune looked up at her Shaman in surprise, "You mean you don't know?" at his negative head shake, she huffed, "It means something's corrupted ahead; the nastier the taste of the world, the worse the corruption is… or, that's what my Mima told me it means."

"Your Mima?"

"Yeah!" she made an extra high bounce and continued, "My Mima's the eight-tails of the Currents… or is it Tides?... Anyway, she taught me and all my cousins about Water's song!"

Well that made a little more sense to James, "Oh! So you can hear the music of the world?"

"Nah," said Vera, hopping onto a boulder and looking at James, who stopped to regard the shimmering fox, "Just Water. Normally, I wouldn't learn about the rest of the songs till I got older, but I'm your spirit-familiar now! And you're a Shaman! That means I can sing to anything now, so long as I'm with you!"

James nodded, tapping his staff a couple times against the ground; the trees had more space between them now. It seemed they were walking into a tamer part of this hidden forest. Still, he felt the bitter tang of corruption hanging in the air, faint but present; nearby, a tree moaned painfully as the creeping bitterness clung to its bark and seeped slowly into its core. Biting his lip, James felt sorry for this forest; it was a beautiful place, and he didn't want it to rot!

"There must be something we can do," he mused aloud, digging his staff into the soft earth. He could Sense the corruption moving through the ground like a slime mold, reaching out to taint nature.

Vera tilted her head and regarded the young Shaman, "Well, you're the Shaman! You can banish the darkness, can't you?"

"But how?" asked James; again, he felt in over his head, "I don't even know what's causing it!"

"Then Listen," replied the snowy kitsune, sitting back on her haunches and closing her eyes, tails swishing and ears perked up; taking her advice, James reached out with his senses, gripping his staff tightly.

The corruption was like veins of liquid metal, trying to drink everything good out of the world; but the trees were strong and resilient, and had long weathered the darkness. Following the branching veins, James felt the bitterness rise like bile into the back of his mouth, until…

"Blegh!" he cried, spitting on the ground as he tried to get the taste out of his mouth, "What was _that_?!" Whatever the source of the corruption was, it had tasted like rotting apples and dirty pennies, and smelt like curdled milk. Gross!

Smacking her chops in obvious distaste, his kitsune companion shuddered and replied, "I have no idea, but that is one _nasty_ taste!" Accepting some water from James' canteen to clear the after-taste from her mouth, she continued, "We should probably prepare to face it, whatever it is…"

Nodding, James mused on what he knew of good and bad spirits from his reading: good ones, like Vera, were sunny and free, while bad spirits were cranky and hostile to everything around them. ' _If it's a spirit, then something_ really bad _must have happened to make it so bitter toward everything. I wonder…_ '

Looking about, James spotted an oak tree that had been drained nearly dry from the darkness; its bark failing and leaves listless, it was stuck in the throes of melancholy. The Shaman tapped a finger against his lips, an idea slowly forming.

"Oooooh, you look like you've got an idea!" Vera observed with a foxy grin, bouncing on her paws again, "What is it? What is it? What is it?"

"What if…" began James slowly, "We take some of the nature around us… and bind a compassionate spirit to… a, err… golem, I guess? If I put my power into it, I _think_ it could purify the trees and land here; hopefully, that'll weaken the source…"

"OH!" bounced Vera in realization, "You mean a spirit construct! Yes, yes, yes! We can do that!"

Grinning at Vera's infectious enthusiasm, James began rhythmically tapping his staff and asked, "But what should it look like, that's the problem I'm having; see, I'm tired from my hike, and the spirit might not like a binding."

Thumping her tails against her boulder, Vera rhymed back, "So long as you've got good stones, the spirit will happily come! So shake your rattle, and my tails I'll drum! And together! We'll make a fox!"

He drew his rattle with a smirk, "A fox?"

She clicked her claws mid-bounce and nodded happily, "A forest-y-fox!"

James' rattle made a happy sound like moss underfoot and a babbling brook, "A fox to guard and clean and protect, and this forest will be its den!" he shrugged off his pack and produced the old coinpurse with rose quartz pieces filling it, "Stones pink and pure, they'll make the heart of our new friend!"

Hopping off the boulder with a delighted ' _Yip!_ ', Vera addressed the stone, "Great big rock, sitting in the dark, doing nothing but grumbling at us!" The boulder shivered as their magic took hold; Vera pointed one of her paws to where James was placing quartz pieces on the ground near the withered oak. "Roll over there, don't stop and stare! You'll be the bones for the fox!"

With a great groan, the boulder shifted where it sat, shrugging off the moss and rolling toward James, who raised his staff and brought it down with a great _thud_! The moss and grass-covered soil wrapped around the quartz stones and rose into the air, a pink light beginning to surround the orb as the rest of the ground beneath it swirled like a stirring soup in time to the Shaman and kitsune's music; the boulder rolled into the swirls, and melted into it like water! Its grey color joined the brows and greens as James continued to sing.

"Moss and soil, rich with water, listen to this foxy song! Leave behind the bitter dark, wrap around those stony bones, and make this fox so strong!"

The grey nearly vanished beneath the swirling soil and greenery as the land responded to James' will; now the clearing they were in roiled like a pond in a windstorm, the ground seeming more like water than simple dirt and rock! Amidst this, James' rattle sounded like a symphony of wind, and Vera's tails a bubbling river. As they moved to the next part, Vera bounced over and sang to the withered oak, who'd been watching the act with melancholic wonder.

"Hello tree, so sad and strong! Hearken now to the foxy song! The darkness bit you, took your green; but a new day dawns, I'll tell you what I mean! Join our fox, walk with us, and heal the hurts that pain the forest!"

With a pleased groan, the oak stretched its roots to the swirling earth, a shimmering silver light filling it as it _flowed_ like water into the magical swirls, mixing with the green soil and grey stone and regaining its brown hue as the pulsing magic rose about the two beings.

Laughing freely, James reached out with his staff and made a circle around the quartz heart before pressing down on it with the malachite head as Vera hummed and drummed along with his stamping feet and symphonic rattling; he didn't know where all these ideas were coming from, but just chalked it up to his connection to the wider world and nature.

He sang again, "Our foxy friend is almost here! But I wonder, now, my shiny dear," James matched Vera's grin from where she pranced and drummed on the other side of the glowing mound between them, "Your tails are two, so to make sure our friend; isn't left out, how many tails shall we give them?"

Vera leapt into the air, landing on her feet, even as James copied her, both of them bounding around the quickly swirling, glowing mound, speaking one after the other:

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

A pressure began to build in the air about them….

"Eight!"

The mound shone with a golden light…

" **NINE**!" Shaman and kitsune shouted together, " **A NINE-TAILED FOREST FOX**!"

A warm wind blew through the forest glade they were singing in, caressing the trees that were watching the proceedings in great awe, nine tail tips wiggling out of the edges of the golden mound…

"Oh!" cried Vera, "But what shall our friend's name be?"

Though he didn't know it, James' green eyes shone like fire when he spoke, young voice thrumming with magic, "The same name as the one, who gave life to the first trees!" He raised his staff, gathering as much Power as he could from the surrounding nature-

"YAVANNA!"

-and slammed it into the ground.

 **[..|..]**

Beating her shimmering wings as hard as she could, Melfina the Landlady considered what her response to this latest report of humans would be as she flew toward the stone circle at the edge of her property.

It wasn't the first time a human had stumbled onto this place since she claimed it two-hundred-and-thirty-seven years ago; the Ministry regularly sent people to try and reclaim Walnut Manor (so named for the stained glass window over the main entrance) those first few decades, but had lost interest in the past century, probably due to her wards, shored up with the shattered remains of the Manor's own spells, creating misdirection and confusion amongst ill-intentioned trespassers. Other than the usual suits, the occasional Mundie-born witch or wizard stumbled into the forest while on vacation with their families, but were invariably turned back; Melfina had made sure every member of her Court was well-practiced with their illusions and taught them how to scare Muddy people away if they got curious. No human, child or adult, had managed to get past them, except one werewolf, with her permission of course, who stayed in the Manor during the winter.

Until this boy appeared, anyway!

237 years of relative peace; of keeping the filthy revenant bound to this property sealed in the stables; of taking in the thestal herd when their forest was cut down; of making sure the griffons in the west paddock were happy, made sure the werewolf didn't go off the property during full moons, and kept their hunting discrete; of welcoming the merrow family when they moved into a nearby pond, who explored the partially flooded catacombs beneath the property, providing her Court with a prime location to make their caches and grow bloodmoss and luminous amantia and other foodstuffs in the glowing dark grottos. Two and a half centuries of _exile_ from the Grand Courts, and now some random _kid_ had apparently just waltzed through her defenses, defeated the Triplets at their own game, and was heading for the friggin' _circle_ to do Seasons knew what!

Grinding her teeth in frustration, the Landlady of Walnut Manor checked the Goblin-forged dagger sheathed at her hip before regarding her path: she'd taken a left at Vileclaw the goblin's house, then a right at the old stone driveway that led to the Manor's East Wing entrance, and she was now in the wilder, eastern parts of her property. Hovering for a moment, as she was now out of sight of the Manor, she went over what Snapper had told her.

One kid, scrawny, dressed like a Muddy but with obvious hand-me-downs, staff with random stuff on the head, baseball cap and messy black hair; Breech and Louie were keeping an eye on him; he noticed their illusion right away and dispelled it with practiced ease.

' _Right. So I'm probably dealing with a second-generation Mundie mage, maybe a druid's apprentice_ ,' Melfina tapped a green-tipped finger against her bicep before running her hand through her glossy auburn hair and growling to herself, ' _Hopefully he's not from Old Moldy's camp. The revenant's bad enough without some Dark brat causing trouble_.'

Was she paranoid? Yes, and she would easily admit it for the asking; in the past two hundred years, she'd found that it was better to be vigilant in the face of adversity than to become complacent. That was one of the things she'd hated about the Grand Courts and the lands of the Fae: the lack of any real preparation, just endless parties and occasional battles between Summer and Winter.

Not that she was homesick. After all, Melfina and her friends had left willingly.

Drifting forward at a slower pace, the powerful Fae glanced at what treetops she could see, almost expecting to spot the ancient yew that occupied the circle being tossed into the air by something terrible, ' _Bloody kid has no idea what the circle even_ does _! Seasons, I hope I can stop him before he does something stupid_.'

Suddenly, a warm, comforting wind swept swiftly through the trees, making the Daystar seem to shine brighter; it also _touched her magic_! Freezing in place, Melfina quickly realized what she was feeling, ' _A spirit of compassion?! A really strong one, too! WHAT IS THAT KID DOIN-_ ' before she could finish her thought, a cry came to her pointed, sensitive ears:

 _"Yavanna!_ "

And it felt like the world exploded!

Golden light blazed in a clearing up ahead, making the sky seem dark it was so bright! Out of the clearing, the radiant light whipped outward, caressing the trees and coming right toward her!

Throwing herself behind a tree to avoid the enormous amounts of magic whipping through the air like hurricane gales, Melfina hunkered down…

Even as she watched the grass, which had been getting listless lately, suddenly perk up and turn a healthy green! Looking around herself as the eldritch wind faded, she saw that most of the trees, which had been showing signs of rot for decades, were… _healing_! As she stared, Melfina saw her trees' bark smoothing out, bruises and breaks mending before her seafoam eyes.

' _Seasons… what has he done?!_ ' Launching herself back into the air, the Lady of the Walnut Court double-timed it in the direction the explosion came from, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.

 **[..|..]**

Vera came to with a shudder. Blinking away the spots in her eyes, the young kitsune found she had been tossed onto her side when-

' _Oof! That really wiped me out, hehe!_ ' the spirit-construct had been so much fun to make, but _maybe_ they should've started with something smaller! The Mundane Realm, her Mima had told her when she was just a one-tails, had a different set a rules than Foxhome, the Realm of the Kitsune; back home, Vera wouldn't even have been winded from what she'd just done, but _here_ …

Trying to rise, Vera found she couldn't! It felt like she'd been run over by a vetfrir or something! The little kitsune had never felt so weak…

 _Thump…_ She looked up at the sound, near her…

And her blue eyes widened in _awe_.

Above her was a great fox, big as a seven-tails, made of moss, leaves, mud, grass, flowers- it was like all of Nature given life and form, its green and brown 'skin' flowing about as though it were fluid! A golden glow came from beneath, bathing the clearing Vera lay in with comforting light; its eyes were a glowing pink, and made of water! It looked down at her briefly, before regarding a nearby tree, listless with corruption; as Vera watched, a long, sinuous tail, creaking with swirls of mossy bark and healthy heart-wood, snaked out to wrap around the wounded beech.

The tail, one of _nine_ (distantly, Vera realized her Mima would have given her a lecture for making a mockery of the Kyuubi, but at that moment she was too stunned and excited to care), tensed about the stem of the tree, and, right before little Vera's eyes, pulled the rot from the beech and gave a _flick_ , splattering a light gray mud onto the ground, from which mushrooms and nightshade vine instantly grew!

" _Wow…_ " breathed Vera, a tired grin on her face as she watched… oh! James named her Yavanna! What a pretty name! Looking up at their new friend, Vera watched as the great Nature avatar began walking, pink eyes searching and tails wagging and caressing trees as it passed, her great paws leaving wildflowers and strawberry plants in their wake.

Letting her head thump back to the soft ground, Vera couldn't stop grinning! "We did it, James…" she breathed, arching her back and wiggling on the ground, not wanting to get up as she was _so tired_ , trying to get into a better position so she could check on her Shaman, "James?"

He was lying on his back, glasses askew and hat a few feet away, spread-eagle across the bowl-shaped divot between them; his staff wasn't sun-bleached grey anymore, but a deep, healthy brown. Also, his spirit-rattle, clenched in his right hand, had a white glow emanating from it.

He wasn't moving.

"James!" Vera called hoarsely, rolling onto her shaky paws and trying to rise; oh, she'd gone and done it now! Not even one day with her Shaman, and she'd already gotten him hurt! On top of that, she could barely walk, let alone raise her tails; she only made one quivering step toward her Shaman before falling on her face, "Oof!" Looking in James' direction, worry started to fill her; using her claws to drag herself closer to her fallen friend, Vera began muttering to herself, "If only I were close to a river, I wouldn't be so weak… Oh, James! Wake up!"

But he didn't stir, not an inch! ' _Oh, what'll Mima say; I've gone and gotten my Shaman-NO! He's not dead! I can feel his magic still!_ ' And she could; when they Bonded, she could feel James' magic, like a crackling, humid storm-front rolling over fields of lotuses (which wasn't uncommon, back at home), swirling and singing beneath his skin. But now, it was so quiet, like a sun shower, pulsing weakly against Vera's senses, which felt bruised and raw, ' _Oh no! Our Bond was almost broken! Stupid Vera! Stupid! Big sis'll never let me hear the end of it!_ '

Panting with exertion, Vera finally reached his bare feet; the weakened kitsune gripped James' worn pants and pulled herself onto his lap. Using the last of her strength to throw herself forward, Vera laid the side of her head on her Shaman's chest and listened…

 _Tha-thump… tha-thump…_

His chest was rising and falling slowly as well! "Oh, thank goodness," Vera whispered in exhausted relief; curling herself up as much as she could, she looked inward for her spark of magic and started rebuilding James' and her Bond. Without it, she'd… _Fade_.

Shivering despite the warm weather, the little kitsune whimpered, calling for her James to wake every few minutes and trying not to cry.

Then, she heard a buzzing sound approaching, followed by someone shouting in a high-pitched voice, "WHAT THE SEASONS IS _THAT_?!"

Raising her head, she saw- a _FAE!_ It was hovering in the air on the edge of the clearing, looking at Yavanna, who was still nearby, in total shock; not that Vera cared, seeing as it was a filthy, treacherous, slimy _faerie_. She growled low in her throat, summoning some of the moisture in the air around herself to make a water-ball between her tails, _'I won't let her touch James!_ '

The Fae must have heard her growl, for it turned its head to look at the little kitsune lying protectively on her Shaman's chest, tail-tips caressing a football-sized globe of wobbly water; it flew closer slowly, seafoam blue eyes wide with anger and green-tipped bronze claws raised, "Easy, little fox. Could you tell me-HEY!"

Vera sent a weak water bullet through the air next to the faerie in warning; she also gasped in pain, her water ball falling apart as her tails went limp. Still, she managed to get out, "You… stay 'way… from James…" before her head fell limply onto her Shaman's chest.

Vera was vaguely aware of the Fae pulling something out of her bag before she started _falling_ …

 **[..|..]**

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 **A/N:**

 **Bad news: Cliffhanger, NOOOOOO! I'm so sorry, there'll be another chapter in the next week or so!**

 **Good news: There'll be at least two more chapters to follow in the next couple weeks. This story's chapters are shorter (and a ton of fun to write!), so I can hammer out more of them in less time than A Witch's Tale. Stay tuned!**

 **I may as well say it now: this story is part one of six of a series. It'll focus heavily on history, magical creatures, and the more unusual forms of magic, as well as the bonds of friendship; there will still be wands and all that jazz, but the focus will be on Shamanism and… other things. Oh, and adventure! So much adventure!**

 **A few reviewer responses now!**

 **mizzrazz72: With what I've planned for this story, and the massive world I intend to build around it, you better believe James is gonna shake things up! Also, oh, you have no idea how spot-on you are!**

 **Valrew165: My friend, nice to see you! The whole bit with James and Jean will come into play _much_ later. In fact, you'll meet Remus Lupin long before Jean ever shows up. Stay tuned, be patient, and enjoy!**

 **Pietro99, TBM10, Diana A, Guest, Gorefink, and ObsessedWithHPFanFic: Thanks so much for your reviews and encouragement!**

 **I'll see you all in a week or so! Thanks for reading!**

 **~Baked (who is super-excited now that he's focusing on this story again!)**


	4. Khepri, the Serpent of the Sun

**…**

 **Harry Potter is the property of our fandom's liege lady,  
Mrs. Joanne K. Rowling.  
Long may she live, in prosperity.  
My only complaint about her great work is  
that she could have done so much more with it…  
hence, this story!  
Enjoy!**

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The Other Side of the Sky

Little is known about the place or phenomena Shamans refer to as The Other Side of the Sky. Perhaps even more frustrating is the fact that, at the asking, every Shaman that has been interviewed on the matter has been evasive and vague in their responses. I will try to sum up what is known, though I hesitate to speculate without further evidence that proves this oddity's existence.

In Northern Canada, Inuit Shamans, both Mundane and Magical, declare that The Other Side of the Sky can be viewed through the Aurora Borealis; observations written by naturalists, mages, and Glimmervale Journeymen out on expeditions during the Age of Discovery theorize that this phenomena (the viewing of ancient cities, people, animals, and sundry in the Aurora's shifting light) is a form of passive, natural Divination. Most Seers have sought to disprove these notions whenever mentioned for a variety of reasons.

Russian woodsmen, particularly those who enjoy the company of Spirit-familiars, call this most vexing place the Realm of Earth's Dreams, where the planet itself dreams of ages gone by; Eastern mage-philosophers call this report proof of the Akashic Records (see page 214), despite Shaman Jander the Sky-Sailor's (c.1377-1490 CE) repeated insistence, in the writings he left behind, that this is not the case.

Shaman Jander writes (syntax edited; original writing in Appendix), "…the Fade, or Other Side of the Sky, is not a repository of human knowledge… Rather, think of it as Paradise for Spirits, their memories and dreams of life… and, verily, it is where Gaia herself remembers the past ages and glories that have passed by."

Further research into this subject, as it deals with what appears to be a fundamental property of our planet, should be approached with extreme caution, if at all.

-Entry excerpted from _Strangest Magical Phenomena and Mysteries  
_ By Various Authors  
Nicol and Sons Publishing Co., Warsaw, 1922

BOOK BANNED IN ALL COUNTIRES BY I.C.W. ARTICLE 17, CLAUSE 3 (DARK CLAUSE)  
GENEVA CONVENTION OF 1956

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 **Chapter 4:  
Khepri, the Serpent of the Sun**

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 **[..O..]**

One moment, James was excitedly finishing the spirit-construct that would cleanse the darkness from the forests.

The next, he was lying on his back, head ringing and feeling like he'd been hit in his everywhere with the world's biggest frying pan. ' _Owwwwww… Maybe we should've tried something smaller_ ,' groaning painfully, as his whole body felt like one huge bruise, James tried curling into a ball, only to stop as a white-hot lance of pain in his belly made him gasp, "Ah!" ' _Oh darn! I hope that explosion didn't hurt me too badly…_ '

Replacing his spirit-rattle in its belt loop holster, James patted himself down to make sure he didn't have any bad injuries; other than feeling like he'd fallen down a couple dozen sets of stairs, though, he _seemed_ to be perfectly okay. ' _Wow, it's really bright now… Was I out all night?_ ' thought James; though he hadn't opened his stinging eyes yet, he could tell that everything around him was bathed in intense golden light that turned his closed eyelids red; how long had he been out for? ' _Okay… easy now._ ' He took a deep breath through his nose, figuring that scents were easier to find out about than sight right this moment.

He could smell… a smoky incense, and a heady, dry smell that he wasn't familiar with… and _raisins_? A breeze flitted across his face, bringing warmth and a graininess that reminded James of sand. No forest-y scents or twitters of birds; where was he? "Vera?" James called carefully, only to receive no answer.

' _Oh no! Did the faeries kidnap us? Is Vera being held prisoner? Oh, I_ knew _we should've rested before bringing Yavanna into being_ ,' replaying the last few minutes in his head, something began to confuse James; how had he _known_ when to add the rose quartz "heart" to the mix? How had he known how to do _any_ of those things, especially how to bring a compassionate spirit into the world?! It didn't make any sense!

"Makes perfect sense, actually," came a lady's voice off to James' left; the stinging leaving his eyes, James opened them…

He was lying on a wooden bench, padded with soft leather, in a room made of red granite and limestone; the ceiling, which he was looking at, had the two stone types swirling together to create a falcon-headed man with the sun behind his head, an ankh in one hand and an ornate staff in the other, sitting cross legged and looking down at James with eyes of lapis lazuli, a serpent encircling the sun behind the being; hieroglyphs made a ring around the image, which seemed to have been _woven_ into its image from the surrounding stones.

Looking about, James saw he was in a large room dominated by a huge, purple silk-curtained bed; a large desk of gold-trimmed wood, groaning beneath heavy tomes and stacks of yellow paper(?), sat by closed filigreed doors of silver that led to a balcony, which was the source of the bright light. To the left of the doors, an urn smoked steadily with sweet-smelling incense, and further along the walls, which were painted with images of people hunting in a forest of reeds…

Someone, presumably the one who'd spoken, was sitting with their back to James before an expansive vanity covered in clay pots of every color, someone with long hair, black as midnight and woven with golden threads; as he watched, a hand of burnished bronze rose and ran an iron comb through their ebon mane, a ring with a roughly cut citrine gleaming on her middle finger. It had to be a woman, James figured; the voice that had spoken was a woman's, and there was no one else in the room…

Then her words hit him; sitting up carefully, as the pain in his gut had lessened to a dull ache, James said, "But… But it _doesn't_ make sense!"

"Yes it does, dearie," the woman replied, her voice like cool water in the heat of the room, though she didn't turn or cease in her combing, "You're just having trouble putting all the pieces of the puzzle together."

Blinking, James remembered what the yew in the circle told him about Shamans, "Does… Does it have something to do with… me being a… conduit or whatever?"

She laughed, the sound a music he'd thought could only come from his rattle, placing her brush back on the desk and reaching for a silky yellow robe that was folded on the vanity's desktop, "That's the first half of it, James Stormcaller," the woman rose, revealing that she wasn't wearing _anything_ but a gold anklet, a jeweled bracelet on her left wrist, and painted hieroglyphs spiraling down her arms and legs; thankfully for the boy, her long hair hid her body from view, and the robe she swiftly slipped into did wonders to temper his embarrassment.

Though not by much, as he flushed red and looked at the floor, gripping his staff tightly and babbling, "I-I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, for-for, um, for intruding on you like this. I'll, err, I'll just find my friend, Vera, and be on my way," he looked around, _anywhere_ but at the bronze-skinned beauty in the room with him, half-expecting his bubbly friend to come bouncing around a corner and humming a tune.

The woman sighed, replying with tired patience, "James, dear, I assure you, this is hardly an imposition on your part; it is more an… intercession, an intervention if you will, on _our_ part, mainly due to your foolish, though pure and well-intentioned, actions."

Wincing at her soft chiding, James looked toward the woman, an apology on the tip of his tongue; however, that apology died in a breath of awe as he took in her full appearance.

The yellow robe with green trim she wore hugged her hourglass figure, leaving little to the imagination; it was open in the front above her midriff, and matched her bronze skin well, the silk shimmering as she moved. Her nails, sharpened to fine tips, were painted turquoise, hands slender but clearly strong. Between her full breasts was a golden scarab pendant hanging from a fine chain of the same material. Her slender neck led up to the most beautiful face he'd ever laid eyes on; from her strong jaw to her full, gold-painted lips, her perfect nose and high cheekbones and thin eyebrows, all framed in straight black hair that fell to her waist. And her _eyes_ … they were a pleasant light green, her lashes long and heavy, framed with thick black kohl in a pattern of small, gleaming scales, giving James the impression of a snake, which was highlighted by the golden circlet on her brow: it was fashioned to look like a cobra, scales and all, encircling her head. She was the most beautiful lady James had ever seen, and her appearance left him gaping in awe.

She smiled at him, eyes softly regarding the boy before her, and said teasingly, "You are also hardly the first male to be struck speechless by my beauty, though you're certainly the most handsome," and she laughed gaily while James averted his eyes again and felt as though his entire body blushed, such was his embarrassment!

It took James a moment to get ahold of himself, during which the woman raised a hand and beckoned to a simple chair and large wicker basket, both of which flew over and rested in front of James; watching as she sat regally and crossed a long leg, James asked carefully, "Um… Where am I, ma'am?"

Tapping a finger to her lips in thought, the woman replied after a brief pause, "In a moment, dear James."

Frowning, he asked, "Wait… how do you know my-?"

She raised a hand, saying in a calm tone with a small smile, "In a _moment_ , James; first, I need you to hold out your hands in front of you, like this," and she held out her arms, palms upraised, as though she were going to catch something.

Hesitantly, as he still had no idea what was going on, and was getting more confused by the second, James did as she asked; holding the position for a few seconds, it didn't seem as though anything would happen. Right as he opened his mouth to ask why he was doing this, James heard a familiar voice screaming with fright, coming from far off but getting steadily closer! "Vera?"

"… _yaaaaaAAAAAA_ AAAAAAAAH- _oof_!" and the kitsune fell back-first out of thin air, right into his arms! It was the first time he'd touched her, and he was surprised that she felt less like a furry creature, and more like a soft mass of solid water; not like ice, or even snow, but like both and _neither_ , solid yet slippery, a feeling of warmth and a chilly tingle where his skin touched her fur. It was at once weird and comforting to feel her, both alien to his senses yet, somehow, as familiar as meeting an old friend.

All these things, though, were far from his most immediate concern, which was for his friend, "Vera! Oh, you're not hurt, are you?"

Shaking her head and blinking away her shock, Vera looked up in surprise at an equally stunned James, "JAMES!" And tackled him onto the bench, licking his face and crying with worry as he hugged her and stroked her back, trying to calm her down, "Oh, James, I'm so sorry! I should've let you rest, or-or started on something _smaller_! Oh, we've gone and done it now! Our Bond nearly broke!"

"It's not your fault, Vera; I insisted, didn't I?" burying his face in the side of her warm, fluffy neck, James let relief flow through him at finding his new friend unhurt, "It's okay, we're both okay," he pulled back carefully and looked at the woman again, who was smiling fondly at boy and fox, "Um… right?"

Vera pulled his attention back as she gasped, looking around fearfully, "Oh no! James… we're in the _Fade_!" James blinked in confusion, then broke out in goosebumps when his kitsune friend explained, "It's where spirits go when they die! Oh, James, I'm so sorry!"

The woman laughed, "Calm yourself, young kitsune! Neither of you are in danger here; indeed," her smile turned from humorous to one of mirthful reproach, "you would not have found yourselves here if you were not, firstly, a Shaman and his spirit-familiar, and secondly, channeled the raw power of Gaia. Though every Shaman ends up here at some point in their lives, usually through deep meditation, none have been as young as you, or achieved the action so spectacularly."

Remembering what he'd done to create Yavanna, James quickly tried to apologize, "I-er, _we_ didn't mean to! I just wanted to help the forest!" Vera nodded swiftly, tails twitching in nervous agitation.

"I know, and neither of you are at fault," the woman soothed, face showing her sad understanding, "Truly, few Shamans start out with formal training, though you are both the youngest of your kind, spirit and Shaman, to ever come here. Oh! Where are my manners? I am Khepri, the Serpent of Giza, High Priestess of Ra, Arcane Advisor to Queen Cleopatra VII Philopator, and Shaman of the Daystar." She delivered her introduction with perfect poise, sitting up straight and smiling at James in a most disarming way.

While the young Shaman and kitsune in question gaped at her; after a moment, James managed to reply disbelievingly, "Cleopatra? But… but that was over two thousand years ago!"

Khepri nodded patiently, "Yes it was, James. Though, to answer your earlier question, I know your name because… well," she smiled sheepishly, "this is all happening inside your heads. To keep it simple, you are dreaming."

Vera gasped while James continued to stare at the beautiful Shaman in wonder; when neither spoke, Khepri continued, "When you two created Yavanna, you expended quite a lot of magic, all while channeling the raw power of nature itself; were you an ordinary mage, or were you, Vera, not Bonded to James, you would both have _burned_. As it was," her gaze turned serious, making James and Vera quiver under her serpentine stare, "your Bond, a sacred joining of your souls and magic, was strained to the breaking point; had you not _asked_ the spirit to join you, that is, had you _forced_ it…" the female Shaman's face remained firm as she trailed off, which made James fearful at what horrors could have happened, if he had been so cruel.

But young James wasn't cruel, and replied quietly, "We wouldn't have forced her…"

"Yeah!" Vera agreed with a glare, "James is really nice! He wouldn't have made the spirit come against its will!"

"I am aware, that was simply a warning," Khepri's face softened, "For there is much neither of you understand about the path you've chosen, the road less traveled; had myself and the others not assisted you in your great work, neither of you would have realized your potential."

"Our potential?" chorused child and fox, glancing at each other before looking to the other Shaman for an explanation.

And, boy, did they get one! "I shall start at the beginning. The place you are in is, to Shamans, known as The Other Side of the Sky, or the Fade, as it is known to most Spirits; it is where dreams take place," Khepri grinned happily, showing off her perfect white teeth, "where Spirits go when their time comes. Additionally, it acts as a sort of repository for Gaia's memories, which are tied to the bones of her being. Because of this, it is a place of history, an ever shifting Realm of memories, made from the lives of countless Spirits and the experiences of every Shaman that has ever lived; and _that_ , James, is how I am here, talking to you, two thousand years after my death," she finished with a smile and a shrug that mad the gold braids in her hair clink together.

While James continued to stare in awe at her; he had no idea that such a thing could ever exist, not in all his reading about the world! None of the books on Shamanism even _touched_ on things like this, most of them talking about healing, conversing with spirits, and shapeshifting into animals! Maybe this was a more advanced extension on the, admittedly simple, explanations he'd gotten from books. Looking down at Vera, he asked her, "Did you know about any of this, Vera?"

But she looked as confused as he felt, if her head shake and quiet response were anything to go by, "No… my Mima told me the Fade was where kitsune who use up all their magic in Mundus go."

"And she wasn't wrong, little Vera," chimed Khepri, still smiling, "In fact, all Spirits come here eventually; indeed, the bench you're sitting on, the walls and the floor? The light pouring through the walls? _It's all alive_ ," the Egyptian Shaman's eyes glittered with happiness as she concluded, "Everything around us has been made from the lives and memories of Spirits, given purpose through Mother Earth's limitless power; they mimic Mundus, to preserve what has been lost to the millstone of Time, while the Spirits themselves return to the world to nurture new life."

James gasped, "So-So someone could learn everything about history from here?! Even what's been lost to time?" To his disappointment, Khepri shook her head sadly, "But why? You said-"

Vera cleared it up for him, "She said they _mimic_ Mundus, James. Some of what's here really was, and some is what could have been… um, right?" she finished sheepishly to the amused Shaman before them.

Who laughed, the sound like wind-chimes in a gentle breeze, "Yes, but not quite; you see, Vera, James, this place, while strange in its history, is also a… library, I suppose is the best term for it, of every Shaman's memories, from one end of human history to the other. That is how we were able to help you survive channeling Nature: we are Nature's conduits, Her messengers if you will, so it follows that I, along with three other Shamans, sent some of our memories so the two of you would not only be successful in your venture, but _survive_ the act."

The boy before her frowned, before realization hit him, "Oh! I get it now; I've read that a Shaman can speak to the spirits of the Shamans who came before them! You're saying it works the other way around?" Khepri smiled and nodded, happy that James understood, "Wow… I had no idea! But wait…" now James thought back on what little he'd learned about the Ancient Egyptians in school, "I've never heard of you before, and my teacher at school told us all about Egypt and Cleopatra when we started on world history, this past year!"

Khepri sighed, and explained patiently, "History is written by the victors, dear James; the Romans who conquered my people ensured I would not be remembered, and my Queen's name was dragged through the silt; if that were not enough, another reason such things are not remembered is due to the magicals, witches and wizards, hiding their storied and long history from Mundane society; indeed," she continued while James stared in shock, "all magicals have been hiding, sustaining their own society apart from the one you've grown up in, for nearly 300 years."

Vera looked up worriedly at her stunned Shaman, "You really didn't know, James?"

He slowly shook his head, not looking away from the… Spirit? Shaman? Which was it? The enormity of what he'd learned today felt too large to comprehend. Three hundred years… Magic was _real_ … His Power was magic… He was Nature's messenger, at only _nine years old_ , the youngest Shaman ever… Vera was bound to his life, and he to hers; did that make them siblings? A fox was his sister… James started laughing to himself, ' _Figures; I put up with my stupid cousin for years, wishing I had a brother or sister, and I finally get one, but she's a bubbly little two-tailed_ fox spirit _! Not that it's a_ bad _thing, but blimey, what a day!_ '

He must've started laughing a little hysterically, because Vera dropped a large ball of water on his head, "GAH! COLD!"

"Well then you shouldn't've worried me, laughing all crazy like that!" Vera nearly sobbed, looking at him with shining eyes and a trembling lip. Not only that, but James found he could _feel_ her concern and sadness, and her worry that he wouldn't want her as a familiar! ' _Oh, my heart!_ ' James felt a tug at _something_ inside him at the very thought at being parted with Vera, ' _Who cares if she's a fox-spirit? She's_ my _fox-spirit, my crazy, funny, foxy sister!_ '

"Oh, Vera, I'm sorry… This is, well, it's a lot to take in, you know?" he placed his hand on her neck, stroking Vera's soft, watery fur as he assured her, "I… I never had something like _this_ ," he gestured between them with his free hand, "before, but I know for sure that I won't let it break, ever! We have to set things right, after all!"

She sniffed, then smiled up at him, "Of course we are! Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble too, you scatter-brained Shaman! May as well be me, the toughest kitsune since the Kyuubi!" and she puffed out her chest and smirked superiorly.

James grinned, "Have at thee, you silly fox-spirit!" and started tickling his foxy friend, who squealed in delight.

After a few minutes of engaging in a tickling fight, James looked up to find Khepri smiling warmly at the two of them, "So, erm, what happens now?"

The older Shaman's smile slipped a bit, "Well, the two of you are here so that your bodies can heal; my three associates are taking care of that. So!" she pulled over the tub-sized wicker basket and smiled impishly at James, "It would be remiss of me to send you back into the world without teaching you any magic, so how would you like to learn a type of magic I perfected while alive?"

James and Vera nodded eagerly, though James thought he could hear hissing voices coming from the basket, and asked, "Are there, um, snakes in there?"

Vera licked her chops, "Does that mean its snack time?"

Khepri laughed again, "No, silly kitsune! I'm going to teach you Parselmagic, the Art of the Serpents!" and she lifted the lid off the basket. Leaning forward while holding Vera back (he didn't want the possible snakes to get scared and bite her), he found the basket was filled with adders, vipers, asps, cobras, and a large black mamba coiled in the center, all of them looking up at both Shamans curiously; looking down with him, the older Shaman hissed, " _Sssay hello to Jamesss, deariesss!_ "

" _Hello!_ " " _Nice ssspectaclesss._ " " _Looksss a bit ssscrawny, Misssstresss_." " _Oh, what a cutie!_ "

Feeling giddy at learning some actual magic, James looked up at Khepri, "You're going to teach me how to talk to snakes?" That sounded useful!

But then the female Shaman _giggled_ , replying with a smile, "No one can teach you Parseltongue, James; you must be born with it. Oh, but don't despair, dear!" she added when James frowned, then _hissed_ , " _Your mother wasss born with thisss gift, and passsed it to you_ ; _look at the mamba, and ssspeak_." Khepri gestured to the open basket again with a smile.

Filing the comment about his mom away for a later question, James glanced at Vera with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if she understood; the kitsune immediately nodded and said, "It's a bit hard for me to follow, what with all the hissing, but I can understand most of it! Give it a go, James!" and she grinned, tails wiggling in excitement at seeing something new.

So James looked back into the basket; the mamba was looking up at him, having heard Khepri's hissed order. He smiled and said, " _Hi. I'm Jamesss_." He blinked; that had felt _weird_!

" _Yesss, I know_ ," the male mamba replied patiently, ignoring the adder rubbing against his coils, " _Misssstresss jussst told usss your name, after all; well met, Ssspeaker, I am Judecei._ "

"A wizard who can speak Parseltongue," Khepri explained, "has access to several abilities, one of which is a form of healing; _come here, Menin my dear_ ," she finished with a hiss, holding her arm over the basket; one of the vipers, a red and green-scaled affair, rose and wrapped its neck about her wrist, before nimbly coiling the rest of its length about her arm. Lifting him up for James to examine, Khepri continued her lecture in Parseltongue, " _Unlike what you ssshall learn of wanded magicsss, Parssselmagic hasss no incantationsss; it isss entirely sssympathic magic, which you have been doing on your own for sssome time. Sssimply reach out with your inner fire, the power flowing through you, and imbue your ssscaly friend with compassssionate thoughtsss_." suddenly, Menin started glowing with a shimmering white aura!

"Wow!" pipped Vera, "That's the same color as when Mima does her healing!"

James, meanwhile, had a question, " _Would it work to purify the darknessss_? _There'sss a corrupted foressst back where I am, sssee…_ "

It was Menin who answered, still glowing, " _Only if the darknessss isss sssmall, Jamesss. Big darknessss isss harder for sssmall ssserpentsss like usss to remove_."

" _Regardlessss_ ," added Khepri, " _you have Yavanna, now; ssshe will be able to purify the more… persssissstent darknessss… that you might come up againssst. Ssshe isss quite the powerful Ssspirit, Jamesss; but more on that later. Now, practicsse_." And she gestured to the basket again with a smile, letting Menin slither about her shoulders, the large viper still glowing brightly.

 **[..O..]**

So James got to work, calling Judecei up with a soft hiss, and set learning what Khepri had to teach him; it was hard work, but Vera was so helpful, giving him a few pointers on how to mold his magic. Judecei himself was also a great help, being quite intelligent himself, and, as Shaman, kitsune, and snake taught James, the young Shaman found himself understanding the Power within him much better.

There was more to Parselmagic than healing, which James was really glad for! If he put a special type of kohl around his eyes and the eyes of a snake, he could see what the snake saw! Speaking of the kohl, Khepri taught him how to make it, as well as other types that could produce different effects, like allowing him to see in the dark, or see heat and cold, even one that would allow him to see what plants were magic or not! Wearing makeup to do magic was, to James' mind, weird and girly, but Vera thought he looked cool with scales swirling around his eyes, so he let it go; that, and he was learning _real magic_!

That he could now make a black mamba, the deadliest snake in the world, spit _lightning_ was a major boost to James' enthusiasm to learn all he could about Parselmagic!

It wasn't all snake-based magic, either; the beautiful Shaman taught James and Vera how to make pockets bigger on the inside so he could hold more things in his backpack, along with another spell to make the contents lighter. She taught James the difference between using magic with his staff and his rattle; his staff was good for everyday use, like mending fences or moving earth, while his rattle should only come out in times of great need, or when James felt he might need a Spirit's guidance.

Neither Shaman nor kitsune could wait to wake up so they could start gathering things together and practicing all they'd learned! Well, provided the faeries Vera had seen just before passing out didn't take offense to their tromping about, but James wasn't too worried, especially with what else Khepri taught him.

She'd stressed that, despite being an orphan and living on his own, he should still learn how to 'comport himself in polite society, lest someone think him a barbarian'; Khepri's words, not James'. And, blimey, were there a lot of rules to follow! He had to talk a certain way when speaking to certain people, found out that there were _scores_ of ways to nod his head or bow depending on the situation, and the less said about table manners, the better! But James was determined to do his best, especially with a possible altercation with a bunch of angry Fae Folk in his near future; Khepri had stressed that offending a Fae, even one of the lesser ones, was an unwise decision to say the least, and both James and Vera (reluctantly, for some reason, in the kitsune's case) took the older Shaman's words to heart.

Khepri also taught him about the hieroglyphs on her arms and legs, too. Apparently they were the Runic language of snakes, and protected her from magical harm; she added that it was also part of the magical protection his mom had placed on him when he was little, though Khepri admitted that James' protection was _far_ better than her own.

Which led back to James' curiosity on how the ancient and beautiful Shaman could have known his parents.

"But," James argued, pausing in his calligraphy practice (needed for writing Runes correctly), "my relatives said my parents were drunks, and died in a car crash."

"You really believe what those bullies told you, James?" snarked Vera, who had covered her blue-furred paws with white kohl and was now walking on the ceiling, "I wouldn't believe anything they told me, even if my eyes told me it was true! Oh, grass is green? The sky is blue? Water is awesome? Balderdash!" and she giggled while James raised an amused eyebrow at her antics.

"While I wouldn't _quite_ go that far, Vera is correct, James; your relatives are hardly a reliable source of information, especially in regards to your heritage." Khepri put in from where she was lounging nearby on a bed of plush pillows, her snakes slithering around her as she regarded the young Shaman looking imploringly at her, "Your mother, while not a Shaman, was quite the accomplished witch. Though we were never properly acquainted, her works were impressive enough to draw the attention of many Shamans here; for instance, she managed to uncover several types of Parselmagic, including the lesser protective spells I've shown you, that were thought lost to time."

James looked down at the Runes he'd drawn so far, his heart pounding in his chest; quietly, he asked his teacher, "Do… do you know how they…" he couldn't say it.

"Yes, James," Khepri had approached while he struggled with this latest revelation, and knelt beside the younger Shaman, stroking the back of his neck in comfort, "Your parents died in your defense, for a powerful and terrible servant of the Dark wished to wipe your family out. Your mother loved you so that she used magics that are forbidden in Britain to protect you from all harm, and your father fought this… _abomination_ with all he had, tooth and nail, despite the monster's greater power and ruthlessness, hoping to buy your mother time to complete her spell. And he did. And she did. And the abomination was slain. And you lived."

Looking up at the beautiful woman with stinging eyes, James whimpered, " _Why_?" He didn't know what he was asking, just… he wanted to know. _Why?_

She smiled sympathetically, cupped his face with a warm, soft hand, and answered, "Why did they not run? Because the monster would have chased them to the ends of the Earth. Why your family, why them, why you? Because your parents hated all that the Dark represented, because they could not stand by while the monster slaughtered their friends, because they stood against the monster, and they were not afraid of his power; but, like all monsters, this monster could not abide defiance. Why did they die, why did the beast die, and you live, if the beast was so powerful? Because he underestimated just how much they _loved you_ , Harry James Potter; Lilly and James loved you with all their heart, and would have died a thousand deaths, if it meant you would be kept safe. Their undying love protected you, fueled a protection that still protects you from Dark Magic; the monster was vanquished, your scar a monument to their love for you, and their defiance of the Dark. And I tell you now, surely as the Sun rises, they would be _so proud_ of you, Harry."

By the end, James was clutching Khepri's soft robes as she held him gently, Vera nuzzled up to his chest, her wet nose tickling his face when she licked away his tears as he wept with all his heart. He sobbed with sorrow and bitterness for his lot in life with the Dursley family, cried with grief for what his parents must have gone through when fighting the monster, and… _tears of joy streamed down his face_ , because he now knew his parent's names, knew that they hadn't hated him, hadn't abandoned him, knew that they loved him, and that meant more to the boy than anything else.

He didn't know how long he cried for his parents and himself, there in the beautiful Shaman's arms; it felt like weeks, _years_ , even. When he stopped, sniffling and hugging Vera in thanks, James was surprised to find he hadn't flooded Khepri's apartment; smiling up at her, he breathed, "Thank you… You-you didn't have to, tell me that is, but… _thank you_."

"Oh, James, you deserved to know," she wiped a stray tear off James' cheek, ruffled Vera's fur with a smile, and stood elegantly, "Though I can tell you little else of what happened, other than that the monster's Master yet lives," Khepri strode toward the light-filled balcony, face sorrowful.

Just as confused as her Shaman, Vera asked, "Why not? You know so much, taught us both so much, why can't you- wait! How long have we been here?!" James' eyes widened as well; he had been having so much fun learning about magic, and history, and (sort of boring) etiquette, and then his parents, that he'd lost track of time! It had to have been _weeks_ since he passed out in the hidden forest!

"Never fear, my friends," spoke Khepri gently from where she grasped the balcony's door-handles, "While it may _seem_ like many months have passed since you arrived, in reality, a day, perhaps, has elapsed. You forget," she turned a smile on them, "this place _is_ magic." And she threw the doors wide, the desert sun blinding both James and Vera for a moment.

But when James' vision cleared…

He beheld a wonder no living man had ever seen, "Miss Khepri… are… are those…?"

Vera was equally awed, " _Whoa_. Who put those there?"

The Daystar Shaman laughed freely, arms held wide, as though she wished to embrace the vista before them, "Behold, James Stormcaller, Vera Stream-Strider: the Great Necropolis of Egypt, and the city of Cairo, as they were when I still walked the world!"

Pictures in textbooks didn't do them justice, James decided as he and Vera gazed at the white limestone wonders, unmarred by time, their peaks capped with gold that shone like fire in the slowly setting sun; at their base, a sprawling temple complex covered the Giza Plateau, the glittering blue of irrigation ditches interspersing red-columned tombs, work-houses, and temples to the gods of Egypt, dedicated black granite statues in various poses towering over wide courtyards. Nearer to the… _huge palace_ he was in, James could see the Sphinx of Giza; it was thrilling seeing the famous statue undamaged, its distinguished nose and painted mane one of the greatest sights he'd ever seen. Beneath the balcony, stone houses sprawled in a complex labyrinth of streets and alleyways all the way up to the base of the palace, whose grounds were marked by a high wall and wooden gate, the entire vista before him underscored with green grasses and tall palms, vines clinging to the sides of buildings and ferns edging countless courtyards and market squares.

Mouth agape, James couldn't find words to say, seeing one of the ancient civilizations restored to its former glory; neither could Vera, from her perch in James' arms, though her tails were wiggling madly as her body quivered in excitement!

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, James looked up at a brilliantly smiling Khepri, who pointed north, "Look and see," so he did…

There, barely above the horizon, was a glimmering star; Khepri's reverent voice came to James as he squinted at it, "The Pharos Lighthouse, though this is more a trick of the Fade; truly, you'd have to travel a few dozen miles north before sighting the beacon of Alexander and Ptolemy's Great Work, the city my beloved Cleopatra spent much of her time, learning the ways of governance," her tone was sad at the end; when James finally tore his eyes away (the Pharos! He wondered if the Library was here as well!), he saw his fellow Shaman looked very sad, yet, happy at the same time.

Carefully, he asked, "You knew Cleopatra well, then?" Vera's head swung around eagerly, always ready to hear a fresh story.

Khepri nodded solemnly, "In her youth, I was her chief servant and handmaiden; as she grew into a young woman, I became her closest advisor, her friend even; when she became Queen alongside her foolish brother, I was here in Giza, finalizing my Shaman training. We reunited when she sought to unite Egypt under a single banner; we were lovers," her voice was quiet, as though saying the words would make them untrue, "Despite my devotions as High Priestess to Ra and her own responsibilities as Queen, despite our differences in birth and station… she loved _me_ , an orphaned child of a whore and a vagabond, as the Sun loves the land: with such brilliance and fierceness that I, and all the people, were in awe of her," the female Shaman raised up her arms to the setting Sun, a bright grin on her face, "And though the vile Romans poisoned her mind, violated her body, and ravaged her kingdom, she was a true Queen to her people until the end, ensuring, through me, that their history would never die, that their stories would outlast their usurpers and destroyers. Such was the love she held for her people, a love that burned in her heart like the Sun."

"What happened?" whispered James; this was a _much_ different story than what he'd been taught in school!

Sighing, Khepri concluded, "Never you mind my love's tragedy, dear James; you have enough trials ahead of you without bearing my grief," lowering her arms, she then favored him with a smile as bright as the descending desert Sun, "Though I find myself compelled to tell you this: much of what you've learned of the ancient civilizations is grossly incorrect. The Romans burned _a_ library, not _the_ Library. My final act of defiance was denying those barbarians their prize, and it still stands, all the knowledge gained by the Ptolemaic dynasties and magics of the ancient Mediterranean there preserved for those wishing to learn, dear James."

"It's still there?!" Vera crowed excitedly, James grinning right along with her; if Jean were here, no doubt his bookish friend would faint straight away! He was excited enough as it was: the Great Library still stood! It _was still there!_

"And one day, you may even see it," confirmed Khepri, looking to the Sun as it touched the horizon; suddenly, her face became grim, "Our time draws to a close, James. A final warning I have for you: the Darkness is relentless. Though your parents defeated one of its servants, it persists, and it will always hunt you; doubly so, seeing as you are a Shaman."

Vera growled, James holding the young kitsune tighter as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"The original Darkness, James. It lives, has been here since the dawn of civilization, and even before. The servant your parents faced was only its latest work; it weaves plots that topple nations, corrupts all that is good, and its spies are countless. It is patient as well, some of its plots taking _centuries_ to reach fruition. It hates our powers, our ability to speak with Gaia's voice, and the love we share with Mother Earth, and covets those things," She looked at him seriously, "You know of the Darkness, a small number of its dastardly works, though my teachings; three more Shamans will you meet, in the coming days, and after teaching you of Earth, Sea and Sky, they will tell you what form the Darkness takes, what it has done, and, finally, you will learn its name."

Suppressing a shiver of fear, James thought of the filthy Darkness in the forest; no doubt it would be his first challenge, removing the source and purifying the taint. Thinking of how this day had gone so far, he chuckled, looking down at Vera and saying, "To think, I thought being a Shaman just had to do with healing cuts and bruises, but it looks like I've got my work cut out for me now!"

Vera laughed back, flowing out of his arms and wrapping her tails around his ankles, smiling up at her Shaman, "Ha-ha! I almost feel bad for the Dark! Between the two of us, those nasties don't stand a chance!"

"Ho-ho, truly!" Khepri laughed with them, jade eyes glittering, the sky darkening, "You've chosen the hard path, but…" here she knelt, coming to eye level and brushing a lock of hair behind James' ear, "I think you're more than equal to the challenge."

Grinning again, James bowed slightly, Vera copying him at his side, "Thank you, Khepri. I'll never forget this, ever."

Then he felt something soft touch his forehead; she'd _kissed him_! It was so warm… wouldn't it be nice… to fall asleep… eyes drooping, James felt himself tumbling backwards, Vera flowing up into his arms and snuggling close.

As the world turned black, Khepri's voice came to him, one last time:

 _When you find someone_

 _Who sets your heart aflame_

 _Hesitate not at all_

 _And love them with_

 _The passion of the SUN!_

And then he was _falling…_

 **[..|..]**

Smacking his lips, James slowly came back to consciousness; whatever he was lying on was both soft and firm, and the air was thick with mossy scents.

Eyes opening tiredly, he found himself beneath a huge willow tree whose branches had shattered the stone roof of a house… or maybe the roof shattered first? ' _Bahhh, I'm too tired to think_.'

Looking left and right, he found he was lying between two of the great tree's roots; distantly, he could feel the tree protecting them both, a steady thrum of warmth covering them and mumbling worriedly to itself. Glancing down at the weight on his chest, he found Vera snoozing there, and there was his backpack, staff and rattle, all propped neatly on a tree root.

Smiling contentedly and rubbing a spot between his familiar's ears, James settled back and returned to sleep. After all, it had been a _long_ day!

He never noticed the narrowed, shrewd eyes watching him from the shadowed eaves of the room…

 **[..\|/..]**

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 **A/N:**

 **A little more serious in this chapter, though that was necessary for the (honestly _gargantuan_ amounts of) world-building this story requires. We find out a little more about Shamans, James finds out about his parents and is introduced to the basics of the magical world, even a good bit of history thrown in for good measure!**

 **While researching Shamanism for this story, I found an interesting tidbit: Shamans who have died can allegedly speak with living Shamans through trances and meditation, instructing them and offering wisdom as well as advice to further their usefulness to their tribe. I've taken that and expanded it for use in this story, accounting not only for the wider history of the world but also, in my opinion, Mrs. Rowling's rather wanting explanations regarding magic (which I'll be touching on in later chapters). I really hope it comes off well!**

 **Real quick note about that "Dark Clause": bear in mind that the magical world is a _lot_ more complicated than in canon; "Dark", in this case, is defined by 'magic which can cause serious harm to a person or the environment through unsupervised practice'. The book in question had several entries which ended up leading people down a Dark path; bear in mind that it was also written shortly before WW2. Article 17 was created in that conflict's wake. QED.**

 **Reviewer responses, yay!**

 **KitKat97: Building the background alongside the main story is half the fun of writing this fic! That it's infinitely more entertaining than, say, writing a history essay (bleh!), is just icing on the delicious cake! I'm glad you like it!**

 **TBM10: James, or Harry as you referred to him, is, believe it or not, not very powerful. The reason he's capable of so much so early is more due to his experimenting with accidental and intent-based magic than his actual 'power level'; if we're going by just his own capabilities (take away Vera and the spirit-rattle), he's around high First Year-low Second Year in terms of the power he can bring to bear. The spirit-rattle is a game changer, but that gets explained more in depth a few chapters from now (no spoilers!); Vera's Spiritual Bond gives James a better connection to raw Natural magic, allowing him (them) to bring _considerably_ more power to bear, putting him on par with most Seventh Years, though… well, you've seen the "downside". He won't be doing anything on the level of Yavanna again for a very long time. Finally, yes, he'll be going to Hogwarts, but not until the next installment. Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you liked it!**

 **mizzrazz72: Never underestimate the belligerent niceness of James! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **ghostcrab311: *Vera and James giggling mischievously in the background* I have a feeling you're going to absolutely _love_ First Year! As for the bit about Foxes and Faeries… hmmm, indeed! Tune in next time for more!**

 **Valrew165: Spot on, mate! We're not too far away from that, either! It's only August in the story, so Fall is right around the corner! More chapters soon!**

 **Charlie0925, Madra uzemaki, harvald, everyone I've mentioned so far, everyone who favorited or followed, and everyone who's read this story and enjoyed it:**

 **THANK YOU!**

 **I truly enjoy writing this story for all of you! Next chapter should be out in a week or two!**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~Baked (who has a lump of malachite sitting next to his keyboard for inspiration and focus!)**


	5. The Willow and the Triplets

**I really don't own much, least of all the Harry Potter franchise.  
But good news! I'm still allowed to write this story!  
Enjoy the latest chapter!**

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The Fae Folk

Fae Folk, or Faerie as they are more commonly known, can be found virtually anywhere in the world, though they are most often found in Western and Central Europe, the Amazon rain forest, and the uncharted wilds of western Canada. In areas unmentioned, they tend to congregate in places of great magical resonance, such as stone circles, ancient ruins, or near magical population centers. They tend to avoid deserts or regions with arid climates, as well as high elevation forests; the Southern slopes of the Himalayas is an exception to the latter observation.

In Canada, Faerie populations have been known to migrate with the changing seasons, drifting south into Cascadia's dense mountain forests or the redwood old-growth forests north of the San Francisco Bay area during winter months, and keep very much to themselves.

European Fae tend to stake out a claim on an area, hide its presence from both Magical and Muggle, and remain there year-round, sometimes venturing out to play (usually harmless) pranks on nearby human populations, or forage for food and building materials.

Amazon Fae are, as far as anyone can tell, nomadic and reclusive, and avoid humans at all costs; attempts to locate a centralized structure or compound where they range from always results in failure, either from expeditions giving up due to misdirection on the Fae's part, or the total loss of those expeditions from the Amazon's resident wildlife, both mundane and magical.

In passing, most Faerie are docile, shy creatures; when humans come near them, they tend to hide themselves rather than seek confrontation. They are quite able at doing so, seeing as most of their kind are quite practiced with illusions. However, it should be stressed that, when approaching the Fae Folk, one should comport themselves with respect and politeness toward said folk, at least until their alignment can be determined; many a disrespectful witch and wizard have met with a gruesome end due to insulting these prideful beings. They are quite powerful, both physically and magically, with even the smallest Fae capable of dealing grievous harm when pressed, and will defend their homes against any and all intrusions. Therefore, one should only approach a colony of Fae at need and with good reason.

 **Appearance**

Like human beings, Faerie have two distinct sexes, male and female, and are of similar build to humans; they also share many of our own features: broad of shoulder, handsome faces, and short heads of hair for the males, with females displaying long hair, slender bodies, and firm breasts.

Nearly all Fae Folk have wings of some description. These will be insect-like in nature, most often those of butterflies, moths, dragonflies, or bees. A Faerie's biology will usually reflect their wings; a dragonfly Fae, for instance, will have a sturdier, wiry build than, say, a moth Fae, which will have a softer, elegant appearance. As an aside, it should be noted that the urban legend of Faeries having antennae or compound eyes is markedly false and probably due to some devious prank these beings played in the past.

A Faerie's actual features can be hard to determine; their prodigious skill with illusion magics, by and large, comes from a cultural quirk regarding a love of aesthetic beauty, and use an appearance-altering glamour to this effect. Therefore, most Fae will appear as exceptionally beautiful or handsome members of our own race. Without this glamour, their actual facial features are sharp and angular, with large pointed ears, pointed chins and noses, thin lips on wide mouths, and almond-shaped eyes. Skin color varies based on Natural alignment and location; tree sprites, the most common variety of observed Fae, are some shade of brown, from a light walnut to a deep oak. Faerie who make their home in marshes and wetland are paler, from snow white to a light bone. All Fae have smooth skin, though one should _never_ attempt to touch a Faerie without clear and express permission, unless losing a finger or one's life is on the agenda.

Hair and eye color vary wildly from Faerie to Faerie, even amongst close relations, all colors, hues, tints and shades represented.

Faerie vary in size according to power, age and occupation. Most are rather small, around six inches to two feet in height; these are the commoners of the Faerie race, the worker 'bees' if you will, and generally take care of the basic needs of their clan. Fae in excess of two feet should be approached with _extreme_ caution, not only due to the considerable amount of magical power they can bring to bear, but also because of the widely varying temperaments between Faerie of differing Courts.

The lifespan of any variant of Fae is, at present, unknown, though they can be killed with various methods (see Defense Attachment (Aurors/Hit-Wizards/FRoST Agents only)).

 **Diet**

All Faerie are omnivorous; their main diet consists of non-poisonous fungi, small insects and arachnids, garden vegetables, nuts, most fruit (they have a strangely strong dislike of lemons), and fish. In the case of living food, a successful Fae outpost will raise and breed such creatures as livestock.

Larger Fae, such as Court Scribes and Knights, may dine on fare comparable to that which humans consume, if such things are available.

It should be noted that certain factions of Unseelie Fae have been known to consume human flesh and the flesh of other Fae; be aware that such factions are considered pariahs at best, hated enemies at worst, amongst their parent Court and should be killed on sight.

 **Factions and Behavior**

All Fae Folk are divided into two main groups, or the Grand Courts, with one other, rarer group having been observed at times: the Seelie Court, Unseelie Court, and the Exiles.

The Seelie Court, or Summer Court, is ruled over by the Summer Queen, a Fae of mythical and legendary power. Fae from this Court are, at first meeting, benevolent and kind; do not be fooled, as these Fae are not above harming humans when pressed.

Most of the Seelie Court's human dealings have to do with mostly harmless, if highly annoying, pranks, from using their illusions to cause embarrassment and scandal, to outright vandalism and larceny. Many are a neighbor to a Seelie clan that have had items from their home go missing, or moved around; a good way to avoid possible Faerie raids from Seelie forces is to leave out offerings of fresh berries, hemp cord, shiny objects, wine, or nuts in the shell, preferably near a forested area or mire, as this is where Faerie of all types make their homes. Use of small earthenware bowls or jugs are recommended, doubly so if said crockery has pleasing images painted or carved on.

In France and Germany, some isolated parts of both countries exhibit villages engaging in regular trade with local Seelie clans, some going so far as holding grand festivals during the Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice.

The Unseelie Court, or Winter Court, can be best described as a dark mirror of the Seelie Court. With the Winter Queen as its overlord, the Unseelie Court has long been at violent odds with the Seelie Court, though their behavior toward humans can be described as amused dismissal at best, antagonistic at worst.

The Fae of the Unseelie Court are the only Fae who will willingly live in wintery climates; the magical governments of Norway, Sweden and Finland actually employ Unseelie Fae in guarding these countries' stone circles from looters. The Fae in question are only too happy to do so, as not only do they gain a year-round base of operations, they are also always in close proximity to a center of magical resonance, which appears to be a must for all Faerie living in the Mundane Realm.

Unlike Seelie Fae, Unseelie Fae will actively go out of their way to harass or enslave human beings (the Scandinavian clans being the exception rather than the rule), typically through some magically-binding agreement the Faerie trick the target human into. While such practices are not uncommon with the Seelie Court, Summer Fae usually reserve such things as punishments for crimes, such as slights against their kin, insulting their Queen, et cetera. Unseelie Fae will do such things simply because it amuses them. Unseelie Fae are also much more martial than their Seelie cousins, regularly patrolling their redoubts in flights of five or more.

The largest problem when dealing with Fae of either Court is that neither camp will come out and declare their allegiance at the asking, which can be extremely annoying to a researcher seeing as, both behaviorally and physically, they are quite similar. As such, it is important to gauge a Faerie's disposition before agreeing to _anything_ they're offering, as well as being diplomatically courteous _ad nauseam_ lest you accidentally offer insult to an Unseelie Fae.

Common Faerie of both Courts are directly ruled by Court Knights, who rarely leave the Realm of Twilight, the home of the Fae Folk. Court Knights are extremely powerful and beautiful examples of their race, though they are typically quite prideful and cold-hearted, and will offer insult simply to amuse themselves before, usually, slaughtering or enslaving their entertainment. Court Knights are, by and large, between five and six-and-a-half feet in height, and are rarely seen by humans (unless, of course, a human finds themselves met by Fae and are not very clever). Court Knights are usually accompanied by one to five Court Scribes, a magically adept and highly intelligent variety of Fae that act as record keepers, advisors, and overseers for the Knight's underlings and fiefdom; it is theorized that Scribes become Knights over time or after performing some task for their Queen, though this has never been proven.

Finally, there are the Exiles. These are Fae that have been banished from the Courts for some slight or transgression against their own kind, be it physical or traditional in nature; for some reason, the Fae Folk are hesitant to slaughter members of their own Court, choosing instead to banish them to our Mundane Realm. Coming across a group of Exiles, or even an individual Exiled Faerie, is stupendously rare in the wild; Exiled Fae do not last long on their own in the Mundane Realm, most dying from exposure, unable to find a locale of magical resonance to make their base. If an Exile comes across an Unseelie or Seelie encampment in our world, the Exile, or Exiles, will likely be slaughtered out of sheer principle at worst, imprisoned and cruelly enslaved at best (though one wonders, given observations of the treatment of enslaved Exiles by Grand Court Fae, if death would not be preferable).

Exiles will, however, offer their services as festival decoration, caterers and entertainment in exchange for room and board, hence many countries employing them for Yule, Samhain and New Year's Day celebrations. Most known Exiles are currently in the service of various Ministries and magical schools, such as Hogwarts and Beauxbatons.

Several members of the Society of Magical Creature Enthusiasts have proposed the theory that all Amazon Fae are actually highly successful Exiles, though there has been no proof of this beyond the population's reclusive nature and looks of disgust whenever said group is mentioned in the presence of Grand Court Fae.

It should be noted, however, that a Seelie Court encampment in Southern France reported, in 1751 CE, a large exodus of Exiled Fae from the Realm of Twilight, most coming from the Seelie Court with smatterings of Unseelie Fae, all forest sprites, most of them common Fae with five or six Court Scribes. This horde of Faerie have, thus far, avoided detection. Why they were exiled, where they have gone, or the reason so many (low estimate of 150 Fae, high estimate 380) Fae were exiled at once, has remained an unsolved mystery ever since, as the Seelie encampment in question was soon after destroyed by the Roman Inquisition; all other interviewed Fae encampments were either unable to give the horde's location, or gave contradictory information regarding the reasons behind their exile (see page 28 of this report).

 **Addendum: Regarding Kitsune**

Both the Seelie and Unseelie Courts regard kitsune (multi-tailed fox-spirits) with distaste at best, outright hostility at worst. Seelie Fae will usually make such beings unwelcome in their territory in the hopes of driving them off; Unseelie Fae will actively try to kill any kitsune trespassing on their land. All kitsune meet such behavior in kind, and will only rarely attempt peaceful diplomacy when meeting with any Fae.

The reason for this mutual dislike of each other's race is unknown, though there are records in the Great Library going back to c4400 BCE that relate this observed coolness between Fae and kitsune. Asking either race about the source of this grudge has been met with silence and one case of a particularly persistent wizard being permanently convinced that dung beetles contain the soul fragments of a Creator God. An Archimedes Prize awaits the lucky (or unlucky, depending on the truth of the matter) soul who discovers the reason for the Fae/Kitsune grudge.

 **X/O-Threat Levels**

 **X-Threat Levels based on ICW-approved one-to-five-X rating system for potentially dangerous magical creatures.**

 **O-Threat Levels based on ICW-approved one-to-five-O estimated danger caliber of extremely powerful, unique, and supernaturally intelligent magical beings.**

 **Readers are advised to proceed with appropriate caution when approaching any Faerie.**

Common Faerie (6in-2ft in height): **XX, RELATIVELY HARMLESS UNLESS PROVOKED**

Faerie Swarm (20 or more Common Faerie): **XXXX, USUALLY HOSTILE, UNTRAINED WIZARDS: FLEE ON SIGHT**

Court Scribe (3ft-4ft in height): **XXX, XXXX on home turf, APPROACH WITH CAUTION, generally non-combatant unless provoked or in company of Court Knight**

Court Knight (5ft-6.5ft in height): **XXXXX, EXTREMELY DANGEROUS MAGICAL BEING, FLEE ON SIGHT / DO NOT ENGAGE, REPORT SIGHTING/RUMOR TO LOCAL DMLE IMMEDIATELY**

Summer Queen (height unknown, true name: Unspeakable): **OO, EXTREMELY DANGEROUS MYTHICAL BEING, REPORT RUMOR TO LOCAL DMLE IMMEDIATELY, DO NOT ENGAGE / FLEE ON SIGHT**

Winter Queen (7.25ft in height (source: Shaman Ildus of Crimea, 124 BCE), true name: Unspeakable): **OO, EXTREMELY DANGEROUS MYTHICAL BEING, REPORT RUMOR TO LOCAL DMLE IMMEDIATELY, DO NOT ENGAGE / FLEE ON SIGHT**

-Summary page from ICW Archive File on the Fae Folk  
First filing: November 1694 CE  
Most recent update: June 1985 CE  
Information compiled from various eyewitness accounts, SMCE files, and Great Library historical records

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 **Chapter 5:  
The Willow and the Triplets**

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As James drifted back to sleep, the owner of those shrewd eyes let out a quiet sigh of relief.

It had been a little more than a day since Landlady, Shepherd and Sandor's grandkids brought the lad and his fox into the Manor, and both Cook and Rafiq had been getting worried that their newest charges might not wake. At least he now had some good news… _if_ he could make the Herculean journey to Landlady's rooms to inform her of the boy's waking before the Daystar rose.

Grumbling to himself, Vileclaw stood from the short root he'd been relaxing on and began hobbling to Willow Hall's exit, short cane tapping along with every other step; Landlady was, no doubt, still awake, waiting for news on this human child's condition. The old biddy had been going spare ever since that spirit-golem had made a circuit around the Manor's grounds before coming to a rest just outside the stable's iron chains, which kept the revenant pinned down. It hadn't moved since noon, and ignored any and all attempts at convincing it to move.

Glancing up as he reached the threshold to the large room (which had once been a small salon, with a spare bedroom above it, before whatever horror that destroyed parts of Walnut Manor had come by and blown a hole all the way through the domed roof), Vileclaw nodded at the Triplets, where they were camped out on a jutting bit of moss-covered stone, of whom only Snapper was awake; the three had been among the first Fae born when the Walnut Court first came here, and were some of Landlady's best illusionists. To think they'd been bested by a _kid_ …

Over thirty years ago, the aging Goblin accountant found himself looking for a nice, quiet place to retire. Having tired of the infighting and cutthroat business of his brothers and sisters at Gringotts, not to mention his getting on in years (102 was pretty good for a Goblin), Vileclaw sought out somewhere out of the way, where he could tinker and manage his remaining investments in peace.

At the time, he'd assumed Walnut Manor was abandoned, which was indeed what Gringotts' files listed the property as: a derelict, crumbling building, possible Dark creatures roaming about with partially-shattered wards keeping them in, and a rocky forest growing unchecked around it with a natural spring, about a mile from the Manor itself, feeding into the River Wye. It had been buried deep in the bank's defunct property files, along with a note (dating 70 years old at the time) that no one owned the place.

So a place where he could build a nice cozy house into a hillside, hunt, and keep his combat skills sharp in case vengeful stockbrokers came a-calling. Imagine his surprise at finding Melfina and her Walnut Court already fully invested in the place, playing host to a herd of griffins and one old occamy while locked in a constant struggle to keep the trees from dying due to the poisonous nature of a revenant!

Well-away, he'd still managed to make his retirement home, under hill and stone and all, for the low price of one fifty-seven carat ruby, along with his occasional advice and assistance around the grounds. A sweet deal if he'd ever seen one!

Now, at the fine age of 133, old Vileclaw was starting to feel his years; his hip wasn't what it used to be, and his eyes were starting to cloud. On top of that, Melfina liked being able to look over her whole property, so _of course_ her room was at the very top of a five _bloody_ story tower!

So it was that he was huffed his way into Landlady's rooms an hour before midnight with a growled, "Argh, me poor, battered legs. Ever heard of _elevators_ , ya daft sow? One of these days, that climb'll bloody kill me!"

His words, which would see him gutted and cooked by Seelie or Unseelie, were met with an amused snort from the auburn-maned, rainbow-winged beauty standing by the window that overlooked the part of the grounds where the stables lay; dressed in a moth-eaten nightgown meant for a child and knocking out a short smoking pipe in a clay ashtray, Melfina the Landlady didn't take her eyes off the distant golden glow of the Nature avatar as she responded in kind, "If your legs are so tortured, ya damn cranky stump-face, why don't you pay one of the griffons to taxi your old arse up whenever you need a chat? I _know_ you've got the gold, stingy bastard," she then reached out to a well-upholstered velvet ottoman, levitating it over next to her with a gesture.

Grinning, which made his already weathered and scarred features look like they'd been carved from a stump by an 8-year-old, Vileclaw limped his way across a threadbare Persian before sitting on the offered furniture with a grateful groan; despite their perceived barbs, both retired Goblin and Exiled Fae held a great fondness for the other, Vileclaw being reminded of his sister (Stone rest her), while Melfina appreciated someone who could (and _had_ , at that) match wits with her, a former Court Scribe, while still being a decent sort.

Accepting a wooden cup of Faerie wine (made and bottled in house) with a grumbled ' _thanks_ ', Vileclaw took a moment to savor the bitter red drink and the cool night air before reporting, "The lad woke for a few seconds. Scratched the fox's ears and went right back to sleep."

Sitting and helping herself to a cup of her own, Melfina looked out the window again and sighed, "Look at my trees, Vile. They're healing, that damn revenant's rot cleansed from leaf, root and heartwood, all because of some human _boy_ that wandered onto my lands…" huffing, she knocked back a healthy gulp of wine and groused, "Seasons, but I don't like being indebted to anyone, least of all a trespasser, young though he is."

Humming an agreement, her Goblin tenant regarded the pulsing golden light in the distance before responding slowly, "That he's in league with a fox-spirit doesn't help your mood much, does it?"

"Tch!" the Fae's brow furrowed in greater frustration, glaring into the distance over her cup, "It's infuriating! He heals my forest, succeeding where Cookie, Lisanna and I failed, but has a _kitsune_ as a companion; he trespasses on my land without so much as a by-your-leave, but that spirit-golem of his is weakening the revenant simply with its presence! How am I supposed to feel about this boy, Vile?" and she deflated with a sigh, not knowing whether to be grateful or furious.

"If you want my advice, Mel, I'd wait till the lad wakes up," the old Goblin mused, sipping the fine wine before continuing, "We know a couple things about him, at any rate: his dress and gear are all second-hand, he's got nothing new on him; a young lad, whose shoes were held together more by tape than anything, wandering onto our land and _not_ being scared by the Triplets?" Vileclaw gave his now thoughtfully attentive Landlady a significant look, "My gold's on him being an orphan of the last war… that, or he's been _abandoned_ for accidental magic," he spat the word like a curse; child abandonment amongst the Goblin Nation held a punishment worse than death. Cutthroat and ruthless though they were, Goblins took care of their young.

"Can't bet on both, old friend, but… yes, both are possible… damn heartless humans," was Melfina's grimaced rebuttal as she rose and stepped closer to the window; a griffon, one of the night guards, flew past the golden light near the stables, the glittering lights of its Fae companions trailing in its wake.

A few minutes of thoughtful silence passed before the Landlady shrugged, "No use worrying ourselves, I suppose; the kid'll wake up by tomorrow morn, at least. You squatting here tonight, stump-face?" she cheekily added to Vileclaw, whose eyelids were indeed starting to droop in tiredness.

He nodded, shooting back playfully, "Not unless you feel like flying this old bag-o-bones back to his house on your big, strong wings."

"Ha! As if! My poor wings _ache_ at the thought of carrying your _dense arse_!"

"At least _you're_ still young and spry, belligerent bloody Fae!"

"Young?! I'm _five_ times your age, you rock-muncher!"

"Fern-humper!"

"Knut-pincher!"

And so it went, until Melfina blew out her lamp and Vileclaw fell asleep on a threadbare chaise lounge, though not before the Landlady called up Rafiq and his daughter, Asha, and gave them orders to lay out some clothes and breakfast for the lad and his kitsune.

Just because Melfina couldn't figure the boy out didn't mean she couldn't be a good host.

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Eyes fluttering in the morning light filtering through a tree, James returned to wakefulness-

-and found himself looking into Vera's blue eyes, inches from his own.

Blink. "Good morning, Vera. Please don't do that again, I almost punched you."

"Hehe, sorry!" she hopped off his chest onto a neighboring tree root, "G'morning James! I've been up for a few minutes already, took a look around, got bored," the two-tailed kitsune explained as James sat up and stretched his slightly stiff arms out, "We're in a really _big_ house, it might be a castle though, what with all the stone, oh! And the loo's out the door to your right!"

Taking a second to glance around, James found they'd been sleeping between the roots of a large willow tree growing in the middle of a partially ruined room made of rough vine- and moss-covered stone. An arched doorway led into another darkened corridor, pale sunlight spilling out of the occasional open doorway before reaching another open area further away, if the shafts of light coming from above were any indication.

Then his body made its protests known. "Thanks, Vera! Be right back!" And the young Shaman dashed over the roots and made for the indicated loo to answer nature's call.

He chuckled to himself, as he washed his hands, at the irony of the thought, ' _Nature's call, pfft!_ '

Though… looking about as he returned to the willow, he noticed that, despite the loo being in fairly good condition, the rest of the house looked like it had been abandoned for _centuries_ ; thick vines twisted across the floor, walls and ceiling in such a way that it seemed they were holding the house together more than the grey stone itself was. ' _Weird… hmm, maybe the faeries have something to do with it?_ ' mused James as he looked to Vera.

She was sitting perfectly still next to his pack and staff, narrowed eyes fixed on a point above the door, where a section of stone flooring clung desperately to the wall of the house's second story, "We're being watched, James," Vera stated in a flat, unamused voice.

Blinking, James drew on his power and extended his Sense ability-

-and promptly shut it off, due to it feeling like he'd been whacked with a hammer! "Oof! Yep, too much magic in here, Vera; I can't use my Sense power."

His foxy companion raised an eyebrow at him before speaking slowly, "Remember what Khepri said, James; there's a time for precision, and a time for…uh…"

"Letting loose, yeah, sorry." Sitting next to his pack, James grabbed his staff (' _Huh. It looks new... must be Yavanna's doing_.') in his left hand and tried again, gently opening his mind to the world through the eye of a needle…

Magic. _Life_. Everywhere around him, above, beneath, to every side! It flowed harmoniously in a labyrinth of currents and veins, pulsing with pure purpose, but there were… gaps, cracks, jagged fissures in the façade, where Life rippled slowly and Magic formed gossamer threads to bridge valleys. It wasn't perfect, but there was a homey undertone, as though the beings that lived here didn't mind the breaks in the magic much… And speaking of the balls of static he could feel buzzing about…

 _Hundreds of Faeries…_ He could feel them, three above the door, with so many more spread throughout the building, some still sleeping, but most waking and beginning to go about their morning routines. Far above his head and to the left, a brightly burning star shuddered into wakefulness, a dense stone shifting near it as it also woke; further away to the right, another, dimmer, star twitched and shifted about like a hyperactive Rubik's Cube, a third star with two neighbors, their twitchy auras shrouded in mist, sending little sparks of magic to every corner of the… enormous castle they were in! James was about to try and sense further, get a better idea of where they were…

Then Vera slapped his leg with a tail, breaking his concentration; blinking and coming back to himself, he found Vera looking _really_ woozy, "James… I love you, but _please_ give me some warning before doing that again!"

' _Oh! Our Bond!_ ' "You feel it all too, huh?"

"Ya-huh!" she nodded, clearing the remaining cobwebs with a little shake, "The star up above must be the leader; dunno who the other two might be, but we should be careful!"

James nodded, about to add that carefulness was a given when exploring, when he felt three 'sparks' come their way!

 _Pop-pop-pop!_

A platter of dark-colored fried bacon, thin sausages, and seasoned scrambled eggs with toast and pancakes, complete with butter and jam, appeared on a flat part of the willow's roots! Another bowl had appeared beside Vera, half of which had apple slices and cherries mixed with walnuts, the other half containing grilled fish fillets! A tall, blue glass sat on the edge of James' platter, filled with orange juice, while a second bowl filled with clear water sat next to Vera's breakfast.

Both young boy and kitsune stared at the spread in open-mouthed shock, at least until another _pop_ came from the jut of stone above the doorway, soon accompanied by a high-pitched female voice.

"Finally! Snap, Lou! Breakfast!" The air around the stone rippled, revealing the source of the voice.

It _was_ three faeries! It was the first time James had seen them, and he took a short moment to examine them. All three looked pretty similar to each other, about a foot-and-a-half tall with bronzed skin and leafy clothes, and glimmering dragonfly wings sticking out of their shoulder blades. Their hair was… odd, to say the least: the two who looked like boys had shiny silver and metallic blue heads of messy hair, while the girl had orange curly hair that fell to mid-back. Their ears were long and pointed, ' _Like Elves…_ ' James mused, faces full of noble angles, with their arms and legs twisted with corded muscle. As he watched, the girl picked up a still-living beetle with clawed fingers, broke it open and…

Gulping, James looked down at Vera; she'd made her and her race's dislike of the Fae well known in Khepri's dream-scape, and the disgusted look on her face right now underlined that. ' _I'd best run interference for now, at least until we can figure out where we stand with the faeries_.'

Tapping his familiar's barrel with his staff to get her attention, James nodded to the plates that were obviously for them, "So… breakfast?"

Vera gave the bowls laid out for her a distrusting look before shaking her head vigorously, "No way! They're probably trying to ensnare us in some agreement; we eat the food, then they demand some ridiculous payment-!"

"Oi! Fox!" came a boy's voice from above them; looking up, they found the silver-haired male faerie glaring down at them with orange eyes, a half-eaten grub in his hand, "We're not out to get ya, so eat the damn food!" He then got hit in the cheek with a pebble flung by the girl-faerie, "OW! Breech, what was that for?!"

"Snapper! Be nice!" the faerie, Breech apparently, chided her grumbling companion, then looked down at Shaman and kitsune, "And as for ' _ensnaring you_ '," she scoffed, "Landlady offers her hospitality freely, in exchange for healing her forest from that _Seasons-damned_ revenant's corruption, so, yeah, shaddup and eat. Asha obviously went all-out for you two." And she turned back to her breakfast with a huff while the third Fae, named Lou if James had everything right so far, looked between them all while nibbling on a mint leaf.

Figuring questions could come later (with his stomach wholeheartedly agreeing), James smiled back down at Vera, "See? They're not trying to trick us." His Bonded friend still didn't look convinced, so he knelt to eye level with her and said, "Vera, we haven't eaten for two days, and I'm sure if they actually had anything against you being here, you wouldn't have woken up next to me."

He then reached over and grabbed an apple slice, holding it under her nose; Vera's ears perked up at the scent of food, tails wiggling as her hunger overcame her prejudice. On top of that, she didn't want to disappoint or embarrass James (or herself) any further, so she grumbled, "Oh, fine," and snagged the apple slice from his fingers, quickly devouring it, "But don't expect me to like it."

The two friends ate in silence, the three faeries alternating between watching them and conversing quietly amongst themselves; James didn't eat all his food, wrapping part of the bacon rasher and a slice of toast in a spare napkin for later. Vera asked him to do the same to a couple of her filets. Once he'd done that, he found there was still a lot of fruit and nut salad left over, but he didn't have anything to put it in!

After a quick glance about showed no available vessels, he decided to ask the willow they'd slept beneath, "Um, excuse me?"

The willow, which had been enjoying the morning breeze, gave a start of surprise before replying hesitantly, ' _Oh! Um, yes? Can I help you?_ '

Smiling bashfully, James continued, "Sorry for startling you, and good morning. Thank you for watching over us while we slept; your roots are very warm."

Leaves rustling in surprise, the large tree replied, ' _'Tis_ I _who should be thanking you! That blasted creature was slowly rotting everything till you came along! Twas the least I could do!_ '

"And I'm sorry to ask more of you," apologized James in advance, "Seeing as I don't feel I've earned such praise, really; Vera here did most of the hard work," said kitsune wiggled her tails and sat up straight at her Shaman's praise, "but could I use some of your wood to make a small bowl to hold her berries and nuts? I promise I won't hurt you."

' _Is that all? Of course!_ ' the willow allowed, adding in a warning tone, ' _So long as it doesn't involve_ axes _, that is…_ '

"Of course not!" was James' taken aback reply, laying a hand on the tree's trunk, "Now…" Closing his eyes and concentrating, the Shaman stretched out his magic into the tree, taking hold of its own magic and the Natural magic flowing through the land, and asking the wood to come to his hands in the shape of a bowl, adding a well-fitting lid as an afterthought.

Slowly but surely, the bark parted, a round wooden pot flowing into his hands like water, but with the magic of Nature giving it a finished sheen once it solidified and fully separated from the willow with a low _tok_! The swirl of its wood-grain seemed to have foxes frolicking across it, much to James' amusement. ' _Is it to your liking?_ ' the willow asked.

"Oh yes, it's beautiful! What do you think, Vera?" his familiar gave a pleased _yip!_ And took the bowl in her tails, carrying it over to her remaining breakfast to begin storing it; turning back to the tree, James bowed in respect, "Thank you so much, Mr. Willow; may you never rot!"

Giving another rustle, this time in happiness, the Willow replied, _'Oh, it's no trouble at all! I heard from the River Yew, you know_ ,' the tree added, surprising James, ' _You're always welcome to the Willow Room of Walnut Manor, young Shaman, and may your feet never fail you!_ '

Smiling warmly and inclining his head in recognition, James turned back to Vera…

To find her staring down Snapper, the wooden bowl behind her with teeth bared and tails writhing in agitation, the Fae's glare strong enough to strip paint from a wall from where he stood on an opposite root, wings jittering in annoyance; then Breech landed behind her silver-haired friend(?), slapped him upside the head ("Ow!"), and, folding her arms, frowned up at James with narrowed eyes, "So… you can talk to trees, huh?" After he nodded warily, keeping one eye on Vera, she followed up her question with, "You're not part-Fae, are you?"

Blinking in surprise at the strange question, James moved closer to Vera (as she still hadn't dropped her guard), sat on the same root she was on, and replied, "Um, no, I… don't think so. I'm James, by the way, and this is Vera," said kitsune huffed, settling back on her haunches and nodding to the Fae, though her glare didn't relent, "Good morning."

Sliding one of her leafy overall's wayward straps back onto her shoulder, the orange-haired faerie nodded and responded neutrally, "Breech, and these are my brothers, Snapper," the silver-haired Fae grumbled while rubbing his stinging head, "and Louie," the last faerie landed next to his brother and gave a kind nod to human and kitsune, "We're the Triplets of the Walnut Court, and _you're_ the kid that ripped our illusions apart." Breech folded her arms again and narrowed her eyes at a now-blushing James.

Vera blinked at that information, saying to her Shaman, "You beat _three_ faeries at their own game?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked!" James smiled cheekily at his sister-familiar, who stuck out her tongue in reply; then he said to Breech, "Sorry about that, I thought you were pranking me."

Spluttering while his sister's eyes widened in incredulity, Snapper retorted, " _Pranking you?!_ Full-grown wizards have fled from _less_ than what we threw at you, ya Muddy brat!"

Vera bristled at that, but James' calm hand on her withers stopped her from retorting; meanwhile, Breech leveled a glare at her brother and hissed, " _Snap_ , if you can't behave, make yourself useful and go get Landlady!" Once he'd left, but not before shooting another glare at Vera over his shoulder, Breech looked back at James, "My brother's rudeness aside, he's right; no one's ever gotten past us before, so how'd _you_ do it?"

The young Shaman in question pondered for a moment on how to answer, before going with, "Before I answer that, tell me: is the Walnut Court a branch of a Grand Court?" Khepri and Vera both had given him warnings about the Unseelie Court, and he wasn't keen on falling into a trap here.

"Oh, Seasons, no!" laughed Breech, shaking her head, "We're Exiles from both Grand Courts; a couple Court Knights got executed a couple centuries ago and their fiefdoms confiscated by those _bitch_ Queens," James only blinked in response to the small Fae's snarled curse, but Breech wasn't done, "so the leftover Scribes banded together rather than submit to _their_ rule and came to this world."

Louie picked up where she left off, speaking quietly, "Back then, there were five Scribes, led by Landlady… Then they found this place, already abandoned with a revenant roaming about…" Both Fae fell silent then, looking at James and Vera expectantly, as though they were waiting for something.

Remembering Breech's question, James smiled and said, "Watch this," and molded his magic into an Unseen cloak around himself and Vera, who sniggered at their audience's reaction.

Both Faerie's eyes bulged, Breech pointing in James' general direction and crying, "Where'd they go?! Weren't they just sitting _right there?!_ I can't even sense them!" Louie spun on a heel, looking about wildly while his sister's wings jittered in agitation.

James laughed and dispelled both his and Vera's cloaks with a pulse of magic along their Bond, making both Faerie squeak in surprise and Louie fall on his butt, much to Vera's snickering amusement; James explained further, "When I started doing accidental magic, I found a way I could make myself go 'Unseen', though it was tough making myself 'Seen' again; when I blew away your illusions, it was just a matter of taking hold of the spell and… um… tossing it away?" he shrugged; honestly, he'd been doing it for so long, going between Seen and Unseen, that he didn't much think about how he did it, "It's how I make myself 'Seen' again, if you follow me."

Breech gave him a strange look, "So… you just… messed about with your magic, and figured what _you_ did would work on what _we_ did?"

A snort came from Vera, "Well, why wouldn't it? It's magic, after all!" James nodded in agreement with his friend; he really didn't see what all the fuss was about.

Louie scoffed at Vera's statement, "Because it's _Faerie_ magic, not _human_ magic, you…" then he sighed, looking away for a second, and then continued in a softer voice, "Sorry. You may be a _fox_ , but Bree and I saw you make that Nature-golem to help heal our forest, so you're good in my book."

Breech nodded in agreement while Vera's eyes narrowed in suspicion, at least until James nudged her; he was aware of the grudge between kitsune and Fae, even if Vera wouldn't tell him why there was a grudge to begin with. Despite this, James had a talk with Vera while in the Fade, and they had ( _very_ grudgingly, on the kitsune's part) agreed to be as polite as possible to any Fae they came across.

Therefore, Vera sighed and replied tersely, "I'm sorry for being suspicious, though I'm _sure_ you understand. Oh, and thanks for breakfast, it was really good!"

Breech grinned, "I'm sure Cook, Rafiq and Asha'll be happy to hear it. Still, Louie's got a point: human magic doesn't work on Faerie illusions, so I _still_ don't get how you got past us!"

Thinking about the different types of magic that Khepri had told them about (wand, staff, sympathetic, and spiritual), James shrugged and asked, "Well, how many humans have you met that use a staff to do magic? Or talk to trees?"

"Huh." Louie allowed, "I guess that's fair…"

It was then that Snapper returned, gliding down from an upstairs doorway; landing gracefully next to his siblings, he reported in a calmer tone than he'd used earlier, "Landlady'll be down in a few; she was having breakfast with Mister Vile," while James and Vera glanced at each other, confused, Breech nodded in satisfaction while Snapper looked at his brother and asked, "What'd I miss?"

Once Louie and Breech filled their brother in, Snapper ran a hand through his hair with a grimace before bowing slightly to both James and Vera, "Please forgive my earlier rudeness, it was unbecoming to act that way toward guests," he frowned toward the end, glancing at Vera with a small amount of distaste.

Breech laughed, "Landlady chewed you out good, didn't she?" Louie grinned with her while Snapper leveled an annoyed glare at his sister.

"Shaddup!"

"Err…" all three Fae looked up as James raised his hand slightly, "Couldn't help but notice: you said there's a revenant poisoning the land?"

The matching scowls of Breech and Snapper were offset by Louie's sad face and quiet response, "Yeah. It's a really powerful undead… _thing_. We lost a lot of our kind before Landlady sealed it in the old stables… including our mom."

" _Lou_ ," hissed Breech, her own eyes going pained, "he doesn't need to know that."

James felt one of Vera's tails wrap around his lower back, the touch soothing the empathic pain in his heart, before she chirped, "I guess we all have something in common, then! My, uh, my mom was already old, so she died after my older siblings and I were born, and James lost his parents when he was young; I'm allowed to say that, right?" she added to James, who smiled sadly and nodded.

"So you're an orphan? No relatives or anything?" asked Snapper carefully; at James' quiet 'No.' the Fae chuckled, "Well don't we all make a bunch, eh Bree, Lou?"

The female Fae scoffed and said, "Kindred souls we may be, I still owe Nadira three fish; she's a younger griffon, engaged to the chief's grandson," she explained to James' confused look, "you'll probably meet her later, so long as you stay respectful. You don't want to annoy a griffon."

"Oh! Of course I will," James agreed, Vera nodding excitedly next to him; he could feel her vibrating against him, no doubt raring to bounce off and explore this whole place, and James couldn't blame his Bonded's enthusiasm! Griffons and faeries and a whole castle to explore! He still wasn't too sure what a revenant was, but if it was afraid of Yavanna, James felt confident he could defeat it!

"Well, it's nice to see you all getting along," came a new voice from the room's doorway; looking over as its owner stepped into the light, James got his first look at the Landlady of Walnut Court.

She was around his own height, but had adult features: her slim body was clad in a light green sundress with a silk belt around her waist, skin the same color of the three faeries he'd first met, but her fingertips had a dark green tinge to them; unlike the other three Fae, whose wings matched their hair color, Landlady's reminded James of the color of tarnished bismuth, the gossamer wings representing every color of the rainbow, shifting as she walked forward on bare feet. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a messy bun that was skewered with a knitting needle, exposing pointed ears pierced with tiny golden studs; her intelligent seafoam eyes flicked from James to Vera and back again, a small smile tugging at her thin lips as she came to a stop at the edge of the tree's roots. It was then that James noticed an ornate dagger tucked into her belt on her right side.

Standing and nodding in greeting, James greeted the Fae respectfully, "Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am, and please excuse my rudeness for intruding on your land without permission. I wasn't aware of your claim to this place."

The Landlady waved him off with a smile, "We've had intruders in the past, but if you could get past _these three_ ," the triplets shifted uncomfortably, Lou rubbing the back of his head, "then you've earned a roof over your head and breakfast at least," which set James' heart and mind a little more at ease.

Then she folded her arms and spoke officially, "I am Melfina, Landlady of Walnut Manor, and Leader of the Walnut Court of Exiled Fae. You are James, and _you_ ," she looked down her thin, pointed nose at Vera, who was hiding slightly behind James' legs and watching the powerful Fae suspiciously, "are Vera, or so Snapper tells me. Now…" the now-named Melfina narrowed her eyes at James, smile disappearing and making James gulp in nervousness and Vera shiver against his leg, "For your information, I am a 700-year-old Faerie, which means I can _easily_ tell if someone is lying to me, young James. So when I ask you these questions, you had _better_ answer honestly:

"Where are you from, how did you find us, and who taught you magic?"

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 **A/N:**

 **This chapter's historical entry is the longest yet, taking up a whole _third_ of the word count! Not _entirely_ my fault, but I figured there'd be more information on a magical creature that's as well known as the Fae Folk in the HP-verse; having said that, both the Wiki and Pottermore said Faeries are essentially harmless creatures in the HP-verse, which flies in the face of virtually _every_ legend and story regarding the Fae! Hence my adding them into this story as a species described in much the same way as Neil Gaiman did in _The Sandman_ , with bits of actual folk legend and some of my own personal whimsy thrown in; I hope you all like it! **

**Reviewer Responses! (I work my way from most recent to the first of last chapter, answering any questions and/or clearing things up for you all!)**

 **mizzrazz72: Well, yes, but he didn't know that fact _consciously_ until Shaman Khepri told him. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **RRW: A staff is good for wider, area-of-effect magic, communing with nature, things like that; in a nutshell, it's good for simple, intent-based magic, which James is fairly good at. A wand, on the other hand, can produce a much wider variety of spells with greater precision than a staff. James _will_ have a wand at some point, but that's a long way off. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **theawesomest5: BUT YOU'RE THE AWESOMEST! lol thanks for reviewing!**

 **Chalie0925: I have no idea, but I'm not in it for the reviews; I'm in it for the writing of a good story! The response it's gotten so far has, honestly, exceeded all my expectations! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Valrew165: As you've read, we're getting started on that, first impressions and all! More on all this and more next time! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **TBM10(Yup!), Lazymanjones96(love your profile pic!), elvander72(same for your pic!), acherongoddess(yass Gundam Wing, yass!), EmeraldGuardian7(I'll do my best!): THANKS FOR YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEWS! Have some digital apple fritters!**

 **And thank you to everyone who favorited and followed! Cupcakes and biscuits for all!**

 **Now, I've got a hyperactive kitsune and Shaman to track down, so the next chapter might take 2-3 weeks to come out! Till next time!**

 **~Baked (who needs moar coffeeeeee….)**


	6. Welcome to Walnut Manor

**[…o…]**

 **Harry Potter is the property of  
some famous Brit, who I'm _sure_ we all know and love!  
Just playing in her sandbox, honestly! Call off the lawyers, already!  
(the alligator-infested moat is getting kinda full…)**

 **Sorry this took so long, but, ya know. Life.  
On with the story!**

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In Great Britain, the effects of the Statute took form, on the Mundane side, in the Jacobite Uprising of 1718, which was swiftly quashed by the British home forces…

...Meanwhile, on the Magical side of things, a social revolt was gaining stride in the form of a Pureblood movement; some of the established Magical families of the time believed that consorting with Mundane humans would taint bloodlines with impurities in Magic, bringing about more Squib births. This flies in the face of more recent research into family trees of old families in the Balkans and Italy, which raises the theory of Squibs being created by the practice of inbreeding, especially in cases where parents are closer in relation that three degrees.

Leading the resistance against this way of thinking were several of the old families, namely the Dagworth-Grangers and their allies, the Altons and the Hyslops; these families were unique in their practice of allowing any Squib-born children to live on their lands, allowing such individuals to study Magic to their heart's content as well as providing them with employment opportunities. Several Squibs from the Dagworth-Granger household turned out as capable Potioneers and Apothecaries, along with occasional Magical Creature experts; the Magical Menagerie on Diagon Alley was founded by one such Squib, though this is no longer common knowledge. Unsurprising, given the following events.

Naturally, proponents of this Pureblood movement took offense to these families' 'polluting Britain's good society with riffraff', and attempted to push through laws in Britain's Wizengamot to make the practice of training Squibs illegal, said push being led by the Selwyn, Nott and McNair families. However, their attempts at legal action were rebuffed, the Bones Lord going so far as to call his Nott counterpart 'ignorant and paranoid' in the Ministry's Atrium.

What happened next is unclear, as few records have surfaced, but what is clear is, around the same time as the Jacobite Uprising, the Pureblood proponents sought to cleanse what they saw as 'undesirables' from their land; a considerable number of people, both Magical and Mundane, went missing around this time: The Dagworth-Grangers vanished entirely, the Altons reduced to a few family members in Hogsmede and the Altons nearly wiped out. The Nott family, while still wealthy, were a shadow of their former House with six members out of seventy surviving, the McNair family reported only one surviving member, a sixteen-year-old Wilhelmina McNair; while the Selwyn family survived mostly intact, though its main branch was utterly destroyed, only two matrilineal lines continued intact following what has the appearance of a minor civil war, one which the British Magical community has striven to forget…

Excerpted from:  
 _The Statute of Secrecy and its Effects on Magical and Mundane Society_  
a collection of Essays from Magical Universities around the world  
that record the implementation of the Statute and the results  
Published by Alexandria Scrolls and Tomes, inc., 1958

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 **Chapter 6:  
Welcome to Walnut Manor**

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James felt Vera bristle at the Landlady's hard tone, so he looked down at her, meeting her eyes and shaking his head. Losing their cool in front of a Fae of this caliber wouldn't do them any good at all, even with Yavanna's presence at the edge of his mind, felt like the Sun through a morning fog; not that James _wanted_ a fight! He just wanted somewhere to stay, figure out all this magic business and practice what Khepri taught them.

' _The truth…_ ' he took a deep breath and faced Melfina, who was waiting patiently for his response, _'Okay…_ ' "I'm from Surrey, a suburb of London, about two hours' drive from the Forest of Dean. My… uncle…" swallow the lingering pain, focus on Vera's fluffy tails brushing his ankles, "…he left me at the forest's edge after I, err," James blushed a bit and muttered quickly, "after I filled the house with wild animals by accident."

Melfina blinked. Hard. The Triplets and Vera giggled at the thought of such a prank. Then Landlady chuckled herself, a hand coming up to cover her mouth demurely, "So you went playing around with nature magic and made your uncle mad?" At his nod, the Fae rolled her eyes, "And it never occurred to you that he was probably trying to scare you into not using magic again?"

This time, James blinked, but not nearly as hard as Landlady, before answering with a sheepish smile, "Well, yeah, I sorta figured that's what he was trying to do, leave me out here for a few days before coming back to pick me up… Still, I'd been working on figuring out how to talk to nature and spirits for a few months before messing the house up, so, seeing as I was in a forest and the trees were better behaved than the ones in the city, I decided not to waste the opportunity," he finished with a shrug…

While Melfina raised an eyebrow, "Talking to nature and spirits, huh?" When James and Vera both nodded, Landlady huffed, "Right. Kiddo, I wasn't born _yesterday_ ; you've got a staff, and a rattle that you used in a stone circle to summon _her_ ," she gestured at Vera, who frowned, and reiterated, "Where did you get those?"

James smiled fondly at his staff and turned it in his fingers, "Made them myself! The staff was driftwood, but Yavanna must've renewed the wood-"

" _Hold,_ " the Landlady raised a hand for silence, so James reigned in his eagerness at discussing his tools and listened to Melfina as she went on in a stern tone, "…Yavanna. You incanted that name right before summoning that… spirit-golem. Who or what is 'Yavanna'?"

It was Vera who answered, giggling at the Landlady's sternness, "That's her name, silly Fae! Yavanna, the Nine-Tailed Forest-y Fox, protector of forests!"

Smiling himself and ignoring the Fae's incredulous expression, James told her as much as he could about the Nature avatar he and Vera brought into the world, "She's a spirit of Compassion that I called into the world; I wanted to heal the forest outside from the corruption that was slowly making it rot," he grimaced at the memory of the taste of the source's magic, Vera shivering a little as well; _man_ , was that nasty! "Vera and I blended Earth, Water and Air in the form of soil and grass for Earth, and one of the _really_ hurt trees for Water, Earth and Air; she's got bones of stone and, well," James rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "Yavanna's a pretty powerful spirit, so she takes care of the Fire part of a living being."

"Ya-huh!" pipped Vera, bouncing forward a bit while Landlady looked at both of them skeptically, tails wiggling, "She's gonna guard and clean and protect this forest! We, me an' James, we brought her here to wash away the bitterness and weaken the source!" Then his Bonded narrowed her eyes, "You haven't tried to hurt her, have you?" James shot the Fae a look of warning as well; he may not want a fight, but if these Faeries had tried to harm something that was only here to _help_ …

But Melfina laughed, the sound like tinkling wind-chimes, "Oh, Seasons, no! I mean, really!" She put her hands on her hips and smiled wryly, "You two may have trespassed on my land and made everyone's hair all _frizzy_ with bringing Yavanna here," both Shaman and kitsune shifted nervously, despite that being said with humor, "but doing so healed my forest, and made that _blasted, thrice-damned revenant_ cower in fear of your golem's presence!

"Therefore," and Melfina bowed slightly at the waist, making the Triplets gasp in surprise; they'd never seen Landlady bow to _anyone_ , except Mr. Vileclaw! "You have my thanks, and for that reason, you can stay here in Walnut Manor, at least until I can find if you've got relatives out there somewhere that _won't_ abandon you."

Grinning so wide it almost hurt, James bowed back quickly and replied happily, "Thank you very much! I promise, we won't be a bother!" Vera nodded excitedly at his feet, bowing respectfully as well.

" _But_ ," Melfina raised a finger, "You say you _made_ that staff and rattle yourself?" at his nod, she then held out a hand and asked politely, "May I examine them? For safety purposes, you see."

James glanced at his staff; it was a deep, shiny brown, like it had been finished and stained by a craftsman. The polished malachite lump at the head shone dully, as though with a soft inner light, and the velvet holding it looked freshly cleaned. A slight thrum, a _vibration_ , ran through the wood, barely felt beneath James' fingers; it was different enough from how it usually felt that he frowned and warned the Landlady even as he held out the staff, "Sure, just be careful with it, please; I think creating Yavanna changed it in more than looks."

But he needn't have worried; the only change to Melfina's expression was her eyebrows shooting into her hairline and a stiffening of her shoulders as the Fae took the staff from James. Running her green claws over it and turning it from side to side, the Landlady of the Walnut Court examined James' staff with pursed lips and quiet hums, wings jittering every now and again.

After a minute of not saying anything and Vera practically vibrating at his feet, Melfina finally spoke in a clinical tone, "For a Mundane kid with no real training, this is a pretty good staff; you could probably run Natural magic through it all the live-long day and not feel any bad side-effects, what with the strong harmonic attunement it now has," James didn't know what that even _was_ , though it sounded a bit like Khepri's explanation of how sympathetic magic functioned.

However, Melfina plowed on before he could ask any questions, "Downside is that you used a white willow branch for a Nature focus, though your use of malachite as the primary focus probably saved your life," she held it out for James to take back with a neutral expression.

While James wondered _what the heck she was talking about_! Khepri taught him and Vera a lot about magic, but, the young Shaman now realized, she hadn't really mentioned much about what he used to perform magic, or magical foci, only stating what situations were proper for using staff or rattle; as he took the still-quietly-vibrating staff back with shaking hands, Vera voiced his concerns worriedly, "Huh? Is white willow bad for using magic? What do you mean?!"

Melfina shrugged indifferently, "We've got a library in this place; whoever lived here before _we_ claimed the place put strong wards on their book collection, so even if the main wards were destroyed, the library would remain intact. I've had plenty of time to read the books there, and one of them is on magically conductive materials. As far as willow wood goes, most wands are made with bay willow, an excellent magical conductor; white willow, on the other hand," she quirked her lips in humor at James and Vera's attentiveness, "is like trying to squeeze water from a brick for even the smallest spells, at least if it doesn't have a good stone focus. Even _with_ that stone, trying to make big magic run through white willow… well, most wands would've _exploded_ , doing what you did. That you've made it work _at all_ is pretty impressive, for a kid your age."

' _Not to mention someone who has no clue what they're even_ doing!' thought James, even as he realized just how lucky he'd been! ' _Hold on…_ ' thinking hard, James replayed what he'd been doing with the willow staff: drawing magic into it from Nature and forming it into a focus to expand his sight, using it in tandem with song to call Vera, and, after that, to coax enough magic into Yavanna's being that her physical form would be stable once she arrived.

' _Harmonic attunement… so… I tuned my staff like an instrument… by using it over and over again to do Nature-based magic…? Crikey, I really need to know more about this stuff-wait!_ ' Gasping, James blurted, "There's a library here?!" At Landlady's slow, smiling nod, James just stood in wonder; wow… he really _was_ lucky! A whole hidden forest of Faerie and griffons and who knew what else, all living in an abandoned castle! With a library! It was a situation straight out of a fantasy novel, and James couldn't wait to explore this wondrous place!

Then Melfina cleared her throat, regaining James' attention; holding out her hand again, she asked, "The rattle?"

"Oh! Sorry," drawing his spirit-rattle from his belt, James took a moment to examine it: all the feathers, beads and strung-together bones were the same as ever, the owl skull didn't look any different, and the bracelet Jean gave him still had its raven, book, pencil and heart charms. ' _Weird, that my staff changed but the rattle didn't,_ ' James mused before handing it over, saying, "Be careful with it, please."

"Of course," smiled Melfina, looking it over before reaching out her hand for the deer rib handle…

Right before she touched it, though, James got a feeling, deep inside himself; it was similar to how he'd felt when he tried using the rattle at Privet Drive, like what he was doing was _wrong_.

Luckily, Vera must have felt it too, and gave both Landlady and James a loud _snarl_ before sharply speaking up, "Don't!" the elder Fae's hand jerked back right before Vera continued, "That's not like a wand or a staff! It's a part of James, and no-one else should touch it!"

"A part of… _ohh_ , I see," eyes widening in realization, Landlady nodded and withdrew her hand fully, "That explains all the stuff with spirits and whatnot. Well, seeing as you're staying here for now," she looked up at the willow tree in thought as James returned the rattle to his belt with a relieved sigh, "Bree! Give these two the quick tour before settling them near Lupin's room; make sure you bring them by the library and introduce them to Lisanna."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Breech chirped, gliding down to sit cross-legged on James' hat, much to Vera's annoyance and the boy's amusement.

Dragonfly wings buzzing, the Landlady hovered into the air, "One last thing, James and Vera: this place, Walnut Manor, was abandoned for more than a decade before we moved in, two and a half centuries ago; I still don't know how this place was destroyed or why it was abandoned, but whatever caused it was _violent_. There are holes in the floor that go into scary dark catacombs, some of which are flooded, and aren't nice places for little boys or young fox-spirits; some of the rooms have no floors, and, in some areas, we've had to cover big holes with lots of roots and vine, and the roof is gone in some places," she gestured upwards in example before concluding, "So mind your steps whenever you go somewhere; the Triplets will keep an eye on you so you don't get hurt or take a wrong turn, but keep that warning in mind. There are also more than three hundred Fae living in this place, so be careful when entering a room; you might be intruding on someone's house."

Nodding, James bowed again, being careful not to unseat Breech, "I'll keep all that in mind, Landlady. And thank you, again, for giving us a place to stay!"

" _Yip!_ Thank you, Landlady," added Vera happily, giving a little nod of her own.

Bowing back with a flourish, Melfina the Landlady bid them farewell with a warm smile, "Welcome to Walnut Manor, kiddo," and flew off.

"Right!" Breech squeaked in a commanding tone, "Let's get up higher so we can show you the grounds! Forward, march!" Laughing as Vera grumbled at the enthusiastic Fae, James shouldered his pack, took a firm grip on his staff, and walked confidently into the manor proper, Vera at his right side and Breech's brothers flying in their wake.

 **[..|..]**

Walnut Manor, James found at the start of the tour, was _huge!_ It was practically a castle, rather than a manor house, what with its two stone towers, one above the main entrance in the East Wing, with the other marking the library, just a quick dash from James' room in the West Wing, its broken parapets and strong, grey stone; it even had a moat, though it was now more a forest of cattails than a proper moat, but still! The whole place was shaped like an equilateral cross or plus sign, the two towers, the willow and the kitchens making up the four sides.

Having gone up to the third story landing of the East Tower, the fifth floor being where Landlady lived, Breech pointed out major landmarks throughout the grounds, Snapper and Louie adding information here and there; pointing east to a wall of towering trees, she squeaked, "Over there is where you came from, the northern wilds of the Forest of Dean; a little foot-path'll take you straight up to the Yew Stones, but we'll have to wait till you get settled in to retrace your steps. A bit closer, that low hill? That's Mister Vileclaw's house; he's a Goblin, moved in thirty years ago. If ya need to learn how to fight, ask him, but make sure you can pay; Goblins don't do _anything_ for free. Up north is, of course, the Willow Room, and _juuust_ beyond that," the young Fae pointed to some darker evergreen trees growing a ways north of the willow's great bulk, "is the Thestral Glade; they're fairly nice, keep very much to themselves, but you can't see 'em unless you've seen something die. So don't mind the sound of hooves coming from nowhere or random screeching, 'kay?"

Filing the name of the creature, _Thestral_ , away for later study, James and Vera nodded quickly before Louie picked up where Breech left off.

Perching on a west-facing windowsill, the blue-haired Faerie pointed out some of the Manor's other features, "There in the middle is the Great Walnut," a bronze claw indicated the hard-to-miss tree, growing out of a shattered dome in the middle of the Manor, that was nearly as tall as the tower they were in! Dozens of Faeries buzzed around it, some breaking away to fly to one of the many holes in the Manor's roofs, "It's where everyone who lives on the grounds gathers for meetings, or for parties, though parties don't happen often; just past the Walnut, you can see part of the West Tower," another cylindrical tower, on the other side of the sprawling manor, was indicated; James could see vines growing up its sides, though he could only see part of the top, as the Walnut was in the way.

Louie went on, "The West Tower is over the Library. Lady Lisanna, the Librarian, lives there; be careful around her, James. She used to be an Unseelie Scribe, and, though she won't go against Landlady's orders and hurt Vera, she takes her job _really_ seriously."

James nodded quickly, along with Vera; in James' case, it was exposure to librarians in the Muggle world that had to deal with hyperactive children who were more concerned with getting their homework done and/or goofing off than treating books with care, while Vera had, more than once, been berated by her Mima for not putting scrolls back where she'd found them.

Presently, Snapper continued the visual tour, "You'll find out more about Lisanna later, when you meet her. Anyway, see that chimney there?" He pointed south, where a red brick chimney was steadily spewing puffs of wispy white smoke, "That's the Kitchen; Sir Cookie, the Chef, runs it. He's the last of the Scribes, but he's just as tough as Landlady or the Librarian; plus, he has Asha and Rafiq, the House-Elves."

Confused, as his only knowledge of Elves came from Tolkien, James asked, "What're House-Elves?"

Bree's face appeared over the rim of his hat, "Think of them as a magical butler that's tied a magical location; they cook, clean, do the washing, stuff like that. They're actually a type of Fae, though wand-wavers don't recognize that fact," James asked what she meant, which made the little Faerie grin, "The term 'Fae' applies to Faeries, House-Elves, Selkies, Merrow, Leprechauns, and Red Caps; the Fae _Folk_ generally means Faeries, but what it _really_ means is 'a being that isn't human but can use magic, either of their own person or the environment'."

"Jeez, Bree, gonna tell him your cup size, too?" snarked Snap with a grin, which caused Louie to cover his mouth with a hand as he shook with laughter; while a brightly blushing Bree glared at her brother, James wondered what the size of cups had to do with _anything_. Vera didn't seem to get it either, if her confused expression as the Faeries began a squeaky argument was anything to go by; maybe it was an inside joke?

Deciding to cut to the chase, James pointed to where he felt Yavanna, just south of the kitchens, "I'm guessing the stables are over there?"

Looking where he pointed, Lou frowned bitterly, "Yeah. That huge fox-Yavanna wasn't it?-set up shop over there; hasn't moved since Sandor's boys brought you in, thank goodness! Stupid revenant, I hope it's in pain... Oh! Almost forgot!" He pointed past the West Tower, but it was Breech who spoke.

"Just past the Library is the Gardens; Gregory the Occamy is the Gardner, but don't worry, he's really nice! Some of the griffons help him tend the Gardens, 'cause he's old; Gregory showed up a little over seventy years ago with a broken wing, and he liked the Gardens so much that he asked Landlady if he could tend them in exchange for healing," Bree took a deep breath, then got interrupted by Snapper.

"Further out west is the Paddock, where the griffons live; Sandor's the boss of the herd. They're the security around these parts, along with the Merrow family that lives in the lake, a three-minute flight past the stables," finished Snap, who hopped into a hover in front of James right before a dark-brown griffon flew past the window and out of sight, making Vera jump into a paling James' arms with a squeak of fright; smirking, Snap finished, "So, other than the Library, what do ya wanna see first?"

Which was an easy question: James wanted to see where he'd be staying, so off they went!

Getting there, though, was easier said than done; Landlady hadn't been kidding when she said there were a lot of holes in the floors and ceiling! More than once he had to edge around a gaping hole that plunged into inky darkness, cold air flowing upward and outward through a hole in the roof, walking on a root that ran across the edge.

At the asking, Snapper explained the common theory behind all this damage as the group passed a shattered hallway, its foundations at ground level now a pool of dark water: "Ya know how the dome in the middle of the Manor's all shattered? Well, there's not much rubble in the hall its stood in, so most everyone figures something blew the dome outward; the walnut was growin' in a fountain in the middle of the room, and, well, we _are_ tree sprites. Reason the trees in the Manor're so big, see?"

"Huh," regarding the dark water for a moment, James then asked, "So what's underground, then? The Sun's almost high in the sky, but it's still dark down there."

Vera _yip-_ ed and reported happily, "There's a lot of water down there, James! Maybe the basement flooded?" she looked up at the Faeries for confirmation.

Lou nodded, smiling a little, "There's a bunch of tunnels and catacombs under the Manor, but most of 'em are flooded, so only Shepherd, a Selkie, and the Merrow family go down there. Some of them are dryer than others, but most of those are used by us Faeries, for growing mushrooms and stuff."

"And the ones we're _not_ using," interrupted Bree sharply, "are either caved in, or have nasty creatures livin' in 'em. So listen to Landlady, and don't try goin' down there, kay?"

James and Vera both re-affirmed their promise not to go exploring _too_ much; besides, there was a whole sprawling castle to explore, a library to visit, gardens to walk in, Griffons and Merrow and other residents to meet… and a revenant to study and, eventually, defeat. Neither boy nor kitsune felt they'd be bored, not with so many things to do!

They took lunch in James' new room, located off an intact and well-kept hallway on the second floor of the West Wing, not far from the Library's second floor; well, apartment was a more accurate description, if James was being honest. Well-preserved cream wallpaper had been all-but covered in miniature paintings of life as one of the Fae Folk; Lou explained that it was a common theme of the Manor, the primary residents painting the walls with images from everyday life, and these three rooms Landlady'd given James were no exception.

Additionally, James now had more items than he'd ever owned before, living in the cupboard under the stairs; upon entering, there was a square arrangement of antique sofas, all threadbare but well-cared for, on an expansive dark green carpet in the main living area, with a low, square table between them playing host to a tea service and vase of wildflowers, and a small dining table with four chairs placed next to the arched windows, on the opposite side of the room from the door, that overlooked the Manor gardens, though it was hard to see them through the thick blue glass.

Both Shaman and kitsune resolved to visit the gardens, right after the library; Vera could sense complex streams of water snaking through the area in question, and James' experience in dealing with his Aunt's garden made him excited at the prospect of seeing what a magical garden looked like.

To the right of the entryway was a door that led to a nice, blue-tiled bathroom, with a _huge_ porcelain tub that little James could probably swim in! Vera was excited by having a large water source nearby as well: "I'm almost old enough to gain my third tail, but I need to practice _a lot_ to get there!"

Grinning, James looked to the other side of the living room, where an empty bookshelf sat next to another open door, a bedroom with a big oak bed, with dark green sheets and fluffy pillows, desk and wardrobe, all well-cared for, "We _both_ need a lot of practice! Jeez, can you believe how lucky we are?"

She blew a raspberry at him, "Lucky, shmucky! We're awesome, is what!"

"Keep tellin' yourself that, kitsune," teased Bree from the top of James' head, which earned her another raspberry from Vera and a clump of moss dumped on her head, courtesy of Snap.

Presently, though, with a delightful lunch of veggie and cheese sandwiches and some warm tea in their bellies, James felt it was high time to take his first look at the library! Vera, having snacked on her leftover fish along with the bowl of cream that was her own lunch, was just as eager to learn more about magic with her Shaman; bouncing along while he walked down the surprisingly intact hallway that led to the West Tower's second floor, Vera hoped there was a book or scroll that helped her learn more about Water. The young kitsune couldn't wait to get her third tail!

As they approached a heavy oak door, decorated with a brass plaque reading 'QUIET IN THE LIBRARY', Breech, now flying ahead of the group, turned and gave Shaman and kitsune a nervous look, "Right… now, we already told you 'bout Lisanna, but you should know a few more things before meeting her: first, listen to her rules, or you'll get punished, and even Landlady won't be able to save you if Librarian feels you've broken a rule. Second, don't be scared; Librarian might _seem_ scary, but that's just 'cause she takes her job super-seriously. Third, no matter what you do," the female Faerie's face became hard, " _don't ask Librarian why we were Exiled_. Even if you've already asked another Faerie and found out, don't even _mention it_ in front of Lisanna; she doesn't like talking about it," both Snap and Lou nodded seriously, backing up their sister's statement.

"Okay," said James, nodding even as he steeled himself; the Librarian sounded really strict, so he figured he'd be polite as possible, so as not to offend, "I'm ready."

Vera climbed up her Shaman until her head rested on James' left shoulder, wanting the comfort of being close to her Shaman, just in case a quick escape was needed; after all, Mima and big sis always told her Unseelie Fae weren't to be trusted, even at the best of times. "Me too!" she chirped, not wanting her nervousness to show, "Let's learn!"

"Alright…" gulping, Breech tapped a claw on the doorknob, which glowed as the door opened slowly to Walnut Manor's Library, Lisanna the Librarian's private realm.

 **[..|..]**

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 **A/N:**

 **This chapter's historic entry, you've probably noticed, is a _little_ different. It gives a bit more background into why Walnut Manor was abandoned, but the truth of things won't be revealed for a _long_ time.**

 **If you're wondering why Melfina didn't call James out on being a Shaman, seeing as she's old enough that she'd have come across the term before this meeting, it's because a Shaman is so friggin' _rare_ that Melfina's thinking James stumbled onto Druidism rather than Shamanism, as the former is more commonly covered in British history and lore than the latter, for obvious reasons. **

**Again, _really_ sorry this took so long! Trying to write three stories at once can be quite taxing, and then there's real life to consider…**

 **My cat went missing for two weeks (probably terrorizing the local rat population, knowing her lol), both my daughters had surgery (nothing major, they're both doing great!), and so much to do around the house! Oh, and work too, I suppose; I've been busier than ever lately, but that won't stop me writing!**

 **Not much in the way of reviewer responses this time… except to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favorited and/or followed! I honestly wasn't expecting this fic to become so popular! I'll do my best to not disappoint and get the next chapter out as fast as I can!**

 **Till then,**

 **~Baked (taxidermy, seedling, sporangial, persnickety!)**


	7. The Mystery of James Stormcaller

**You know who owns what?  
JK Rowling, Harry Potter, yadda blah snore!  
But enough about that…**

 **[..\|/..]**

Exiled Faeries

The first thing one needs to remember, when approaching a large group of Exiles, is that respect is earned, not given. You're not owed anything and you shouldn't feel obliged to offer information for free, unless you've done something silly; so if you've heard rumors of Faeries in an area you have interest in, tread carefully and _try_ not to do silly things!

Unless you find something wrong with the area, don't try to fix broken things; some Faeries like broken things!

 _You mean like how we took care of the revenant, but Shepherd didn't want the boat fixed, James?  
_ Yeah, Vera! 

If you find something that's been corrupted by Dark forces, either try dealing with it yourself, if you can, or make contact with the Faeries in the area, as they're probably set against it, before going for reinforcements.

 _No one likes unexpected guests, after all! Unless they're me and James, that is!_  
James and _I_ , Vera.  
 _Bugger your English words!_ マイシャーマン戯ける  
STOP DEFACING MY NOTES!

Remember, Faeries are our friends and are willing to help us, so long as we're willing to help them back! A unified front against the Dark equals a happy world!

彼らはバグを食べなければならないのですか?  
VERA!

(A series of tic-tac-toe games, winged stick figures, and paw prints are scattered across these notes)

-From Shaman James Stormcaller's notebooks  
Taken at Walnut Manor, 1989-90  
Donated to Hogwarts School, August 2003

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 **Chapter 7:  
The Mystery of James Stormcaller**

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 **[..|..]**

Beneath a hill topped with an ancient beech there lived a Goblin.

It would cause anything from dismissive amusement to outright rage amongst his kin, Melfina the Landlady mused, if they ever saw where one of their best bankers made his retirement home; since ancient times, the vitriolic creatures generally made their homes amongst the deep bones of the world, in caverns no other beings could survive in, content with their hoarding of the planet's precious metals and jewels and creating masterworks of jewelry and armaments.

Only in the past two thousand years did their race arrive on the surface of the world, becoming quickly embroiled in its glories and horrors as they realized the sheer riches that could be had; funnily enough, from the Landlady's perspective, they were now the premier bankers in Europe and Western Asia, their numbers dwindled from the vast hordes of the past that so terrorized the world, the greedy, malicious people greatly underestimating their opponent's ability to adapt and respond to new threats.

The lesson, to never underestimate the humans, was something taught to all young Fae, whether Seelie or Unseelie; that lesson was an old one, dearly bought in blood and fire, and was part of the reason Mel was sitting at Vileclaw's table, sipping tea and watching her friend as he mulled over what she'd just told him.

The Goblins underestimated the humans, and were forced to guard their treasures, or face genocide; Faerie underestimated the humans…

The Landlady of the Exiles took a big gulp of the bitter stoneroot tea, reminding herself of why she'd left the Grand Courts. There were things worse than death, and staying in the Realm of Twilight was one of them. But back to Vileclaw's house.

Well, if Landlady was being honest with herself, _mansion_ was a more accurate depiction of the Goblin's redoubt; a square stone door, etched with powerful Runes, opened to a warm, welcoming foyer, the roots of the beech winding around the hardened mud of the walls, which were painted to emulate the colors of the sky, red-orange near the floor shifting to white blue at the ceiling's apex. Speaking of the ceiling, Melfina was rather thankful she only had to duck a little to walk through the halls, though that had more to do with her insistence that the cranky stump-face make his home available to visitors; not that he complained _much_ , as Vileclaw was an unusual Goblin in that he _hated_ low ceilings and dark places, hence the warm honey tones of the living roots winding though the expansive halls, which were filled with weapons, jewels, reams of parchment, clay and stone tablets, and all the detritus of the Curse-Breaker-turned-accountant's long, full life.

The result was an organized, confusing mess that only made sense to the wizened, world-wise Goblin; glancing at a window, another heretical idea to his race, Melfina spotted a star-sapphire the size of her fist resting on a dog-eared edition of Isaac Newton's _Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica_ , a sample of Saguaro cactus, potted in the skull of a grindylow, basking innocently in the Sun next to them.

Mel was going to miss him when he died, though Lisa would probably dance with joy; some of the books and tablets in the old Goblin's collection were one-of-a-kind, priceless artifacts, and Mel's oldest friend was _such_ a knowledge fiend.

"A Druid," Vileclaw flatly stated, breaking his contemplative silence, yellow eyes rising to Melfina's face as she nodded, "That _would_ make sense… Though it doesn't explain how the lad knows enough of the subject to make… Yavanna, yes?"

Nodding again, Melfina fiddled with one of her ear studs as she replied, "S'what he named it; as for the knowledge involved, well," she shrugged, "he has a kitsune. Though the Grand Courts've been at odds with them for millennia, I, personally, have respect for the fur-balls; they're as practiced with elemental magic as we Faeries are with illusions."

Gesturing his assent, as the old Goblin no doubt knew this already, Vileclaw countered, "I've lived in Britain for nearly 100 years, lassie, and done work all throughout this world, as ye well know; no kitsune or Druid could do that, not 'less they were older, better trained,"

"What're ye saying, Vile?" cut in Melfina, raising her eyebrow, "That the kid's, what, a natural Sorcerer?"

Scoffing, Vileclaw breathed in the fumes of his tea and curtly replied, "Dunno what I think, Mel, save the kid's got talent; there's also somethin' he ain't tellin' ye."

Huffing herself, Melfina went back to regarding that star-sapphire; it was such a soothing shade of blue… "Whatever he's not telling me, Lisa should be able to sous it out of him."

"Aye. Iffin she doesn't frighten the lad to death."

" _Pfft_ , _fie_ , Vile! She's not _that_ scary!"

" _Not that scary_ , the Exiled Unseelie says! Woman's glare could melt _diamonds_ , were it magical!" Melfina opened her mouth to retort, but Vileclaw snarled, "An' ye know _damn well_ , Landlady, 'ow yer Librarian gets with _mysteries_."

Blinking, it took Mel a moment to realize she was left gaping like a trout out of water, because the stupid stump-faced Goblin was _bloody right_! Lisanna was merciless when there was a mystery to solve, doubly so when it was a potential threat to the Manor; the revenant was only one example. She'd warded the upper two floors of the Manor's Library against intruders, though Mel helped, but no one could enter without the Librarian's knowledge and permission…

That, and Mel's fellow Scribe was more martially minded than herself, so the fact young James was able to cross their outer wards with ease would _probably_ make Lisa a _little_ violently curious…

… ' _I'm such an airy-fairy_.'

"GottagoVile,seeyalater!" the old Faerie cried, bolting out the front door and making for the West Wing as fast as her wings could carry her.

Seated at his kitchen table, Vileclaw rolled his eyes and heaved himself to his feet; limping over to his foyer, the aged Goblin slammed his door shut with a grumbled, "Ruddy scatter-brained at times, these Faeries."

 **[..|..]**

While living with the Dursleys, James rarely had time to himself. Between chores, cooking and the occasional lecture, private time wasn't so much a privilege as a rare commodity for the boy. His friendship with Jean and the discovery of his magic changed things in this respect: books became James' way of rebelling against his Uncle's insistence that he do worse than Dudley in classes, and his magic allowed the young boy to complete his duties around the house much faster than without.

Combining books on housekeeping, gardening and cooking with what he was learning, in regards to magic, helped James with this endeavor; as such, the local library became his home away from home, his fortress of knowledge, where he'd learned so much about the world and its history.

Compared to the small and sparse public library, twenty minutes' walk from Privet Drive, Walnut Manor's equivalent was like comparing Buckingham Palace to a mud-thatch hut.

Stepping though the door after Breech, an excitedly vibrating Vera on his shoulder, James welcomed the familiar scent of old pages, alongside the pleasant smell of finished wood and the vague memory of a pungent incense, a whiff of flowering plants drifting through a partially opened window. Quickly, he looked around, grinning at what he saw.

Unlike the wood floor of the hallway outside, the floor here was white marble, dark blue carpets making four squares, within which reading tables were placed, only some of which had chairs, though all were the same color: a dark walnut that seemed to glow in the light; and such light! Each wall had three arched stained glass windows, rising nearly to the rope-molding that bordered the cream-colored ceiling, bathing the library floor in warm multicolored light. Four pillars, fashioned and painted to look like trees, their branches and leaves splaying partway across the ceiling, stood at the center of the squares, an iron band around each sporting two scones, each of which held a dull blue crystal.

And the _books_! The walls were covered, from floor to ceiling, in bookshelves of the same walnut as the furniture, each section eight shelves high; an endless kaleidoscope of books sat neatly in residence, some ancient, some newer-looking, thousands and thousands of books! Directly across from where James entered, a wrought-iron staircase went both up and down, peaking the young boy's excitement; a multi-level library, filled with books that, no doubt, were mostly on magic!

No-one was on this level, so James turned in place, his kitsune familiar grinning at everything she could see; letting his Sense ability stretch out a bit, James felt the sheer _power_ flowing through the walls here, along with the intent behind it: protecting the treasures within from any who would wish them harm, preventing thieves from taking even a single book, even a shield that could spring into place around the whole tower- this library really _was_ a fortress!

Landing on a nearby table after looking warily around, Breech grinned up at James, who'd moved to the center of the room and was admiring the painted ceiling with a bright smile; quietly, she said, "Pretty cool, huh?"

"It's _amazing_!" breathed James, Vera giving a quiet ' _yip!_ ' of agreement; smiling at the Triplets, as Snapper sat on the table's edge and Louie hovered next to his sister, he added, still quietly, "Was it like this when you all arrived?"

" _Hem_ ," a harsh throat cleared, in the direction of the staircase, just out of James' sight, making Vera squeak and his Faerie friends pale in fear; nervously, he looked at the source.

This Fae was taller than Landlady by a few inches, and _much_ scarier to look at: wearing a black, sleeveless halter dress that stopped at her sock-clad knees, exposing her toned, wiry arms, rust-red skin tattooed with blocky patterns and highlighting her slender, hourglass figure; arms folded beneath her breasts, black tips on her clawed fingers, a diamond hole in the dress exposing a hint of cleavage, simple dragonfly broach in the middle of her throat…

Her face was the scariest, set as it was in a scowl that would send even his Uncle Vernon running; like Landlady Melfina, she had thin lips, but her chin was more pointed, her cheekbones and jaw more pronounced, ears longer, though the gold hoops piercing them were nice. The Fae's blue-black hair was short, stopping just above her jawline and in a brutal cropped hairstyle that reminded James of some of his worse female teachers; her eyes were the worst, though, the shining pyrite-yellow orbs in narrowed slits regarding the boy like he was a beetle she'd caught in the breadbox.

Then James saw her wings, as the four appendages jittered behind her: a deep copper fading to a sunny yellow at the tips, the young Shaman realized what this Faerie's physique was based on, ' _A wasp. I'd better be careful here, don't wanna get stung_.'

She spoke, then, in a harsh, cold voice, "To answer your question, _human_ , there were books strewn all over the floor, cracks in the wood, and the staircase was rusty from rain. It took me _decades_ putting that mess to rights, _so_ ," her voice, somehow, became even more menacing, making all present gulp as the temperature in the room dropped, "unless you are feeling _suicidal_ , don't. Harm. My. Books."

Nodding swiftly, James disclaimed such a notion as fast as he could, "O-Of course I won't! This, erm, it really is a lovely library, and you've done good work," seeing as her glare abated a couple notches, James ventured carefully with a small smile, "Librarian Lisanna of the Walnut Court, I presume?"

Lisanna gave a swift, curt nod before ordering the Triplets, "I wish to speak to the boy and fox alone. Buzz off, you three."

"Erm… yes, Librarian," replied Breech unsteadily, rising up on her wings as Louie added, to James and Vera, "We'll wait at your place."

Nodding, James watched the three Faeries leave with a worried heart; once they were gone, he turned back to the Librarian, whose face had softened somewhat, sharp eyes flicking between Shaman and kitsune. ' _Don't be scared_ ,' he reminded himself of Bree's warnings, ' _She may have been Unseelie, but she won't hurt Vera. I'll be fine_.' Clearing his throat, James introduced himself, "James Stormcaller, ma'am, and this is Vera, my Bonded familiar," he gestured to his shoulder with a smile, Vera giving a wary nod as her Shaman introduced her.

" _Hmph_ ," the tall Faerie grunted, staring right at Vera for a moment longer before speaking to James again in that cold voice of hers, "Boy, I am not just the Librarian; I am also this Court's expert on magical artifice and phenomena. When you were brought here, Melfina bade me examine you and the items on your person, which I _carefully_ did."

"You didn't touch the rattle, did you?" hissed Vera suspiciously, making James glance at her reproachfully; he _really_ didn't want to get this Faerie mad.

But she just snorted, "Of course not, _kitsune_ ; no, it was a cursory examination of the magics at play in the tools your Bonded carries…" Lisanna turned her seemingly-permanent glare back to James, her next words shocking him to the core, "…as well as your physical beings, in case any detrimental effects lingered from the Nature magic you brought into this world, _Harry James Potter_."

James actually took a step back while Vera stiffened; across their Bond, he felt her fear as the young kitsune drew on her magic, preparing to flee. Reaching up and touching his Vera's face, hoping she'd stay calm just a bit longer, the boy fearfully asked the hard-faced Faerie, " _How do you know me_?"

Eyes rolling in exasperation, the Librarian snapped the fingers of her right hand, a book zipping from a bookshelf to her hand with a soft _slap_! James blinked at the action; he _barely_ felt her use magic! Then the Faerie held out the book, roughly, showing boy and kitsune the cover: _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. ' _What the…_?'

Lisanna's cold voice broke through James' confusion, "Do you _truly_ think yourself anonymous amongst magical creatures, _wizard_? When nearly every one of _your kind_ knows your name?"

Looking between the book and the Faerie, James just felt more confused, which was reflected through his Bond; Vera didn't know about this, and Khepri hadn't said anything either! "I-I'm sorry, ma'am, but I _really_ have _no idea_ what you're on about!"

The Fae blinked, before her gaze hardened again, "Explain. Now."

Gulping, James wished Landlady was there; she seemed _a lot_ nicer than the Librarian. Still, he replied politely, "I didn't even _know_ there was a magical world until I came _here_ …" his frustration, at the entire situation, from being abandoned to becoming a Shaman to meeting a horde of suspicious Faeries, bubbled to the surface, though he managed to keep his voice down, "I didn't know Faeries were real, or Griffons, I still don't know much about what a kitsune even _is_ , sorry Vera," he added to his Bonded through angry tears.

"S'okay, James," she soothed, nuzzling his shoulder, "I don't know much about the Mundane world either, so we'll have to learn from each other!"

Smiling thankfully at her, James turned a frown on the now-confused Faerie, "All I know about magic, I learned through trial-and-error, on my own, or from the River Yew-"

" _You spoke to the River Yew?_ " hissed Lisanna, setting the book on the nearest table and looking at the pair with surprise, "You can hear her?"

Nodding, and wondering why she was so surprised, James answered, "Well, yeah! I can hear most trees; most don't talk much, just happy to be alive, though the Forest of Dean likes to Listen to the Winds and the tidings they carry. The River Yew is different, though,"

Waving a clawed hand though the air, Lisanna interrupted him, "I ruddy know the River Yew's different; the point I'm making is, even if you're a Druid, you shouldn't be able to hear her Speak! Those stones were altered back when the Roman Legions overran this land, so even if they captured a Druid, the barbaric fiends couldn't tap into the land's magic," as she took a breath, James thought, ' _That's what she meant! The Gates were broken so the Romans couldn't use them!_ ' The Librarian finished, " _Therefore_ , either you're lying or this _kitsune_ is teaching you things she shouldn't," and glared at Vera.

Before Vera could retort, James snapped at the Fae, "I'm _not lying_ and Vera isn't to blame! I called out to her at the circle, that's how we met!" his Bonded nodded, glaring at the Faerie herself.

Lisanna's brows slammed together right before she snarled, "Explain!"

"Why should we?" put in Vera, matching James' own thoughts, "You're not very nice, even for a Faerie!"

The Librarian made a noise like a teakettle, yellow eyes glowing dangerously and wings buzzing in agitation; gripping his staff a little tighter, James felt Vera tensing, though the young Shaman realized something: they were in this Faerie's seat of power, her magic rippling through every grain of wood and pane of glass. Escaping or fighting her would be difficult; ' _Maybe we can get out the window before she tries anything…_ '

Before anyone could do anything, however, a loud, authoritative voice boomed from below, shaking the Manor and making Shaman, Faerie and Spirit-Fox pale in fear, " ** _SCRIBE LISANNA! GET YOUR SKINNY ARSE DOWN HERE_ NOW!**"

Mumbling, " _Aw, shite_ ," the Scribe in question rose on humming wings and flew down the stairs without a second glance at boy or fox, who were both shaking in the wake of Landlady's command.

Letting out a relieved sigh, James glanced at Vera, who looked just as happy to have the intense Faerie out of their sight, "Wow, that was close! I'd just wished Landlady was here, too."

His foxy sister nodded, "Me too. I think the Librarian's curious, but doesn't know how to ask the right questions," she hopped off James' shoulder and bounded over to the book on the table, "She said you're in here, James; why d'ya think that is?"

Smiling at her change in gears, the boy walked over to the book, which Vera was now sniffing suspiciously, "Probably has something to do with that Dark servant my parents fought," resting his staff against the table, James pulled out a chair and settled into it, Vera hopping onto his lap after pushing the book closer with a tail, "Thanks. Let's see…"

Opening the book carefully, remembering the Fae's warning against harming her tomes, James found the table of contents and began looking for his name; but it wasn't there! Just stuff about the 'Grindelwald Conflict, 1914-1945' and 'Britain's Blood War, 1969-1981'; Vera asked, "What do those numbers mean, James?"

"Those are years, Vera," James told her, "It's 1989 now… and I was born in 1980, so let's read about how that Blood War ended; I was a baby when my parents died, after all," his foxy sister _yipped_ in agreement as James turned to the appropriate page, marked in the table as _Godric's Hollow, 1981_ …

 _His parents_ … James knew they were his, from the man's circle-lensed glasses and messy hair, and the woman's fair face; both of them were smiling and waving in an oval picture, a baby held in his mother's arms… with messy black hair, _just like his own_. The caption read: _Last photo of The Potter Family, James, Lily and Harry, taken together on Easter, 1981, six months before the war's end_.

He wasn't _too_ surprised at the picture moving (magic _was_ fairly amazing, all things considered), as his dad waved again and his mom smiled and tickled baby Harry's chin; not that James noticed much, drinking in the sight of his parents, for the first time ever…

Vera nuzzling his face brought him back; he was silently crying, though, thankfully, his tears landed on Vera and not on the book. He didn't want that Faerie mad at him.

"It's okay, James," whispered Vera, rubbing her face against his cheek as he held her tightly, "I'll always be here, protecting you. Promise."

Sniffing, James gave her a quick, tight hug; Vera might not have known him long, but she sure knew how to help him feel better.

A light buzzing above his head heralded the Triplet's return, along with Breech's squeaky voice, "Huh. Your name's actually Harry Potter, then?"

" _Was_ ," James thickly replied, wiping his eyes and looking at the opposite page, where a sketch of what an artist though he'd look like at eleven held pride of place; grimacing a moment at the well-dressed and confidently smiling (bordering on arrogance, it was) doppelganger, James smiled and elaborated to Louie, who'd landed on the table, "Harry Potter grew up in a boot cupboard and lived in fear of his relatives; James Stormcaller's who I am now, a Shaman that'll set things right, and drive the darkness from the world."

Vera nodded vigorously, "Yep! We're gonna help everyone get along and make sure it stays that way!"

Snapper landed on the book's right side while Bree hovered above it, rubbing her chin thoughtfully; after staring at James and Vera appraisingly, he spoke thoughtfully, "So… not only were you Harry Potter, you're a Shaman too?" at the duo's affirming nods, the Faerie's lips quirked in humor, " _Cool_."

 **[..|..]**

There were few amongst the residents of Walnut Manor and its surrounding lands who could catch Lisanna the Librarian off guard, and, of those few, she feared only one.

Melfina the Landlady. Youngest Court Scribe in Unseelie history. The Fae who'd led the Exiles to this place, who'd been instrumental in sealing the revenant, who'd taken over the Seelie tree sprites after their Scribe was killed by the filthy thing and organized them into making these lands somewhere worth living.

Lisanna's oldest friend. Her _only_ friend, as even the other Scribes in the Realm of Twilight hadn't taken kindly to her insatiable thirst for knowledge and coarse personality. Melfina, despite serving a different Knight, kept the Librarian's temper in check, was there for her when no one else was… even her own Knight, who'd spat in her face when Lisanna told her of Melfina's exile and her own desire to leave the Realm, not wanting to be parted with her friend forever.

The Librarian never regretted what she'd said in response to her _former_ liege's insulting gesture, or gouging the bitch's eyes out before fleeing, taking most of the Knight's books and servants with her.

But as scary as the Winter Queen's disapproval had been, as frustrating as the revenant's rot was to contain over the centuries, and as hard as it was to keep her new Court well-fed and happy, Lisanna hadn't been afraid; Exile though she was, her Unseelie training was deeply engraved into her person, and the Winter Horde knew no fear in the face of hardship.

No, only Melfina deserved her fear. Mainly because, beautiful her sister in all but brood may be, she was _utterly terrifying_ when angered. Like now.

Seafoam eyes seeming like the daunting walls of the Crystalline Citadel, auburn hair whirling in an invisible wind, bismuth wings vibrating with barely-contained upset-ness, Lisanna felt like she was two inches tall before her friend, and she didn't even know why her sister was so angry!

Oh, and Cookie was there too; the only remaining Seelie Scribe, he was the only male Faerie Lisanna knew who had _pink hair_. Where Melfina was their leader and Lisanna the enforcer, Cookie was their counselor, the Arbiter of the Walnut Court… though he spent most of his time in the kitchens, as there was rarely any reason for him to break up arguments with everyone getting along under Landlady's guidance, so he was more commonly known as Chef to the younger generations.

Only an inch shorter than Mel, Cook offset the other two Scribe's appearance with his fair face and skin, grey-black moth wings always folded against his back; unlike most of the Faeries here, he wasn't a tree sprite, but a field-tender, a type of Faerie that aided the growing of crops in fertile land. As such, Cookie, who always wore a plain blue robe wherever he went, was of a much more patient disposition than his cousins, though one wouldn't know it, looking into his steel-grey eyes; there was a calculating coldness there that both Lisa and Mel, over time, came to respect.

Just because he _looked_ soft didn't mean he couldn't be dangerous. Taking a careful step toward her still-fuming sister, Lisanna remembered a moment, mere months after their Exile, where Cookie reduced her to tears with a single, coldly-delivered sentence. While she wasn't afraid of him, she respected such ability from a Summer Faerie.

"Mel, could you _please_ tell me why you're angry?" the Librarian carefully ventured, adding with a small smile, "Before you burn a hole in my nice, freshly polished floors?"

Around a dangerous hiss, Melfina growled, " _You were going to attack him_ , a mere _boy-_ "

Indignantly, Lisanna retorted, "He's keeping knowledge from us-"

Sighing, Cook snapped his fingers, activating a silencing spell on the (thankfully empty) ground floor of the Library, right as Mt. Melfina erupted, "IN. **MY**. **HOUSE**!"

A tiny sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling, making the Librarian shiver; she'd _just_ dusted, which meant a small amount of plaster had been obliterated by Landlady's burning roar. All the same, she assuaged her sister's concerns quickly, lest such obliteration be visited on her person, "I wasn't going to _hurt_ him! Stick him and the fox to the ceiling and ask them questions, maybe-"

Cookie broke in before Melfina exploded again, which looked likely, his voice calm as a Spring breeze, "If Mr. Lupin was holding something from you, would you do the same thing, Lisanna?"

 _Oof_. Cookie only used her full name when he was angry. Not good, "Err… no, Cookie. But-but Lupin's an adult wizard, not-"

"Not an orphaned, lost boy who danced and sang away the revenant's rot," Cook calmly overrode Lisa's objections, making the wasp-winged Fae wilt in shame, "On top of that, he's Harry Potter, which puts you doubly in the wrong."

Lisanna was surprised Mel's head didn't twist off, so fast did Landlady turn on Chef, " _Excuse me?!_ Harry Potter?!"

Shrugging, the male Scribe blithely pointed out, "He has the scar; Rafiq confirmed it when he cleaned the lad up. Also, Asha looked through his belongings, and he has something called a 'Library card' with his name on it. Sadly, that's all the evidence I have."

"The scar was caused by Dark Magic, Mel, and he all but confirmed our suspicions when I confronted him regarding that fake name of his," the Librarian eagerly added, feeling the winds of this argument shift in her favor, "The glasses, the hair, the scar, it all fits!"

Frowning severely, the Landlady crossed her arms and mused aloud, "…He didn't lie to me, though. He _is_ from the Muddy world, his uncle _did_ abandon him, and, from what we've all seen, he has no idea what he is to the wand-wavers, didn't even know they _existed_ till he met the fox! GAH!" Throwing her hands into the air, Melfina started pacing, wings jittering in fury as she asked Lisanna, "What'd that book Remus brought us, the one about the war, say? Dumbledore, right? He hid the boy?"

Blinking, Lisanna remembered that _was_ what the book said, along with the Sorcerer's assurance that the Boy-Who-Lived was safe and learning of magic and the Wizarding World's traditions; realization struck her like a ringing bell as she whispered in shock, "He… did. And _never checked on him_. Winter's fat, saggy rump, the old fart probably doesn't even know the kid's out here!"

Their male companion paled, however, "Or does he? He _is_ a Sorcerer, after all- oh, wait," he slapped his forehead, grinning, "I forgot, we're _Faeries_ ; old Bumbles couldn't find us if he _tried_ ," that observation lightened the mood a bit; though James, or Harry rather, was able to get through their wards, learned wizards were another matter. After the first six attempts by the Ministry to retake the Manor and its grounds, Lisanna'd added an illusion spell that would turn around anyone who approached Walnut Manor's surrounding forest while holding a wand; Remus was the only exception, as the Werewolf's father once did business with Vileclaw, so the lad had an in on getting room and board for the winter. That he was politer than the other humans was a happy plus, in the Librarian's eyes.

Waving her hands in the air, Melfina still wasn't totally calmed, "Even if the wand-wavers can't find us, that doesn't stop the biggest problem we have here: _Harry friggin' Potter_ is in our house, and he knows bugger-all about himself, to say nothing of the rest of the world!"

"We're in a _library_ , Mel, dear," Cookie observed, though he stopped talking when Lisanna stiffened in horror, "Something wrong, Lisa?"

"I left that book on the war on the table; he's probably read it, by now," she whispered, chiding herself internally for making such a _stupid_ error; her sister's unimpressed head shake and Cookie's face-palm was just salt in the wound.

Then the boy's voice came from the stairs, "Err, excuse me, Ms. Librarian?" All three Scribes turned to find the object of their conversation halfway down the stairs and looking at them with interest; to Cookie, he said, "Oh! You must be Sir Cookie, the Chef. Thanks for the meals, they're delicious!" A foxy _yip!_ of agreement followed his statement, though the creature was out of sight at the moment.

"Well met, lad, and I'm glad you like our cooking," said Scribe greeted the boy warmly as only a Seelie could, "How do you find the Manor?"

"It's wonderful! I love what you three have done with the place," the Boy-Who-Lived walked the rest of the way down the stairs, looking about the ground floor with interest, that kitsune at his heels and the Triplets alighting on the railing, "I, err, have a question, though, about that book you left out," he addressed Lisanna warily, holding said book carefully in his arms.

Who huffed and spoke apologetically, "I'm sorry for scaring you, earlier; when there's a mystery about, I can get… carried away; feel free to browse my library to your heart's content, while you're with us. Anyway, what's your question?"

"Well," he glanced down at his kistune, who nodded, while Lisanna's fellow Scribes looked on with interest, "It's more like… _three_ questions," at her impatient gesture, the lad took a deep breath and asked rapid-fire, "Why do they call that Dark guy You-Know-Who, 'cause I _don't_ know who, why's the book say _I_ defeated him, when it was my parents that did it, and where can I find this Dumbledore guy?"

Melfina interjected carefully, "Before we answer any of those questions, why do you want to find Dumbledore?"

James jerked a thumb at Vera, who'd bristled at every mention of the Sorcerer's name, and replied angrily, "Because that book says he's the one who hid me; therefore, Vera here's gonna drop a lake on his head, right after I ask if he knew my relatives made me sleep in a _boot cupboard_."

The meeting sort of dissolved after that, mostly because Lisanna didn't want Melfina breaking anything in her library, but also because what Cookie had to say about young James' treatment, before arriving at the Forest of Dean, wasn't language meant for the ears of youngsters; luckily for everyone involved, most of the mysteries surrounding James Stormcaller (once everything'd been explained, Lisa understood why he changed his name) were answered before dinner was served.

' _A Shaman_ ,' the Librarian thought that night as she lit the glow-stones in their braziers, bathing her library in soft blue-white light (and activating a ward that would wake her if someone entered her domain), before flying to the third floor, the scroll repository and Lisanna's sleeping quarters, with a humored frown on her face, ' _The Boy-Who-Lived, savior of Magical Britain, is a friggin' Shaman, and an Exiled Court is putting him up after his last living relatives abandoned him. What a coup! The Winter Queen would never believe such a tale, even if the Playwright himself wrote it!_ '

Despite her disbelief and chagrin over the situation, Lisanna found herself making a list on what the boy would need to learn… at least until Remus returned at the end of October; intelligent though she most certainly was, the Librarian knew most beings learned more readily from their own kind.

To wit, she'd dug up as many scrolls on Druidism she could find in her private stores, as well as crafting (Mel'd told her of the boy's staff and the issues he might run into with it), Herbology (there were far too many dangerous plants in the Magical World!), and a few magical theory texts to get young James a good grounding in _actual_ magic studies, rather than going off his instincts.

It was a wonder, in all three Court Scribe's unvoiced opinion, that the boy hadn't blown himself up before now!

Blowing out her candle after getting ready for bed and slipping under the covers, a sudden thought occurred to Lisanna, as she reviewed the events of this most interesting day; leaping to her feet, she ran to the east-facing window of the circular tower she was in.

Flinging the shutter wide, the Librarian screamed into the starry night, "HEY, MELFINA!"

A moment later, her sister's tired voice hollered back from across the Manor, " _What?!_ "

Taking a deep breath, a mischievous smile splitting her face, Lisa yelled, "IMAGINE FUDGY-FUDGE'S HIDEOUS MUG WHEN HE FINDS OUT THE BOY-WHO-LIVED GOT RAISED BY KITSUNES, GRIFFONS, FAERIES AND A _WEREWOLF_!" and waited for the inevitable reply with her ear-splitting grin of pointed teeth.

Silence reigned over the Manor for a moment…

Then the sound of squeaky peals of laughter filled the air as the entire population of the Walnut Court began laughing uproariously at the prospect of such a _glorious_ prank! She could even make out Cookie's snorting guffaws and Melfina's high-pitched cackling in the raucous!

Leaping though the air with her own peal of laughter, Lisanna fell into her bed with her grin still in place; finally, after all these years, things were looking up for the Walnut Court!

 **[..|..]**

In his room, a book on magical plants open on his stomach, James looked up at the Librarian's yelling and resulting Manor-wide humor; smirking, he glanced at a dozing Vera, head laid over his heart, "Wonder who this Fudge guy is?"

"Dunno either," yawned Vera, smacking her chops, "but he probably deserves all the pranks he's got coming his way, James."

Marking his page with a handy feather, James placed the book on his nightstand ( _his_ nightstand! He had his own apartment! Take that, Dudders!) and put his glasses on the cover; yawning himself, he snuggled up to Vera, "No doubt. Wizards are weird… Night, Vera."

Tails wiggling against his arms, his foxy friend licked his chin, "Night James."

Both Shaman and kitsune had the same thought, as they drifted off to sleep: everything was turning out for the best, and they couldn't be happier!

 **[..|..]**

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 **A/N:**

 **And we've introduced most of the characters to be involved in Walnut Manor! Still to come: the gardens, the griffons, a Selkie named Shepherd and his Merrow friends, and the showdown with the revenant!**

 **Oh, and a look at what old Dumbles has been up to! DUN DUN DUNNNN!**

 **I had fun with the historic entry this time; that, and my youngest insisted on it, after I explained Vera to her.**

 **Reviewer response time!**

 **ghostcrab311: omg I cannot STAND IT when people make Harry suddenly perfect at everything! Life doesn't work that way! I'm glad you liked it though! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Katzztar: Holy moly, you're getting _way_ ahead of where I'm at in this story. I'm not giving _anything_ away regarding Hogwarts and James' relationships with those three; though you _are_ accurate in your estimations, they _would_ get along, if they knew of each other at this point! Neville wouldn't be able to shut up and Luna would just _die_ with happiness lol! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Madra uzemaki: I'm happy to say, your worries are unfounded; I only do this in my spare time (I'm not getting paid, after all!), while most of my time is either spent with my daughters or helping my dad out when I'm not at work. Thank you for your concern, though, and for reviewing!**

 **Valrew165: Patience, please. Remus stays during the winter, and we still have a few things to get through before we arrive at that meeting! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **And thanks to theawesomest5, Mfoto, Charlie0925 and bluepillfanfic for also reviewing, as well as all the wonderful people who've favorited and followed, or even read and got a smile!**

 **Till next time,**

 **~Baked**


	8. Lost and Found

**…**

 **I don't own Harry Potter!**

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 **Chapter 8:  
Lost and Found**

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 **[..|..]**

 **5 Days Later…**

"But-"

The Landlady sighed, _again_ , "No, James, it _just_ rained!"

"Exactly!" The young Shaman threw his arms up in protest, trying to make the ancient Fae see reason! It wasn't like he was asking for a sample of her wings! "It just rained yesterday, so there'll be mushrooms out! Ink caps and fly amanita! I need those for a potion I'm trying!"

Melfina put her hands on her hips, asking in a stern tone, "And just _who_ gave you potion gear?" James spluttered, not wanting to get the Triplets in trouble; well, thinking about it, the messy-haired lad in brown and gold robes figured it _might_ not be as much trouble as he suspected.

No one was using that gear, after all! It was just rusting and gathering dust in that closet!

But Landlady's next words proved that wasn't why she was upset, flipping a hand in the direction of the Kitchens, "Cookie told me just this morning you couldn't get a _boil curative_ , a simple enough potion, exactly right; therefore, until you succeed with the simpler magics, you shouldn't be experimenting on your own!"

James frowned; for the last five days, the Fae of Walnut Court had been treating him and Vera like ignorant children! Melfina, who _no one_ wanted to cross, issued a decree to all her fellows: neither James nor Vera were allowed to leave the Manor's walls, not until she was satisfied he could fend for himself.

Vera saw the reasoning better than James did, when the Triplets brought the news that second morning, "I can sorta see where she's coming from, James," his foxy familiar chirped from a couch, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ open on an armrest for her perusal, "We've been super lucky so far, and this book says there's all sorts of magical pests that live in abandoned buildings. We should both learn some defensive magic before exploring…" her face scrunched up a bit before she muttered darkly, "…no matter how much I _really_ want to…"

"But-but _Yavanna_ -!" James began to object, looking to Snapper and Louie, the latter of whom was nibbling a cracker on the coffee table; Snap, on the other hand, shook his head…

While Breech cut James off from her reclining perch in his freshly washed hair, "Can you shoot fireballs? Bring down lightning? Make vines that can pin down threats?" James deflated with a sigh, because no, he couldn't.

Not without a snake familiar, anyway.

Thus, his lessons on magic began, Vera always at his side and just as he was to learn about the magical mysteries of Mundus! Usually at the attentions of the three Walnut Court leaders, Melfina (history and Runes, both important, though she also suggested he watch her dealings with her Court so he might learn property management), Lisanna (crafting, practical magic, and, to a lesser extent, the esoteric studies of Astrology, Druidism and Auramancy, the foundation of learning Faerie Glamour), and Cookie (Potions, Herbology and, not that he needed to learn much about it, Magical Cooking!).

Each of the powerful Fae made time for the pair each day, though only two Scribes taught him each day, and they seemed to have a free-form schedule; the first two days, it was Lisanna and Cookie teaching him, the latter allowing them to observe the kitchen work in the morning, and the Librarian dragging them away from repeated attempts at a runic night-light after lunch for a lesson on magical wood-shaping.

Lady Melfina abducted them the third day, which was spent in her rooms above the main entrance; her chiding at trying his hand at Runes without proper instruction was, thankfully, short-lived, punctuated as it was with Shaman and kitsune being made to sit on a settee and read _Cicero in Linguam: et Quasi Communibus uti Infrenaverunt_ , a beginner's guidebook to Rune carving that, despite its Latin title, was entirely in English, if of a tone better suited to pre-Victorian times.

However, what got on James' nerves was the fact that, barring the aforementioned failure at making a basic potion under Sir Cookie's watchful eye, all he was learning was _theory!_

Oh, sure, the amount of magical theory James and Vera didn't know about literally filled an entire section of the Manor's library, but they'd created Yavanna without knowing about leyline congruencies or celestial alignments or wandlore, all of which Lady Lisanna felt were necessary subjects for a growing mage, related to Spirit and Shaman by the Court Scribe with inescapable surety and haughtiness dripping from her voice; on the bright side, she was an _excellent_ teacher, even assigning the pair practical homework if the lesson called for it!

His staff was already conducting personal magic better, and all he'd needed to add were a few copper wires near the head and butt of the willow branch! He'd still need a proper staff and wand, but the Librarian insisted on at least a year of learning crafting and wandlore before making another attempt at a proper magical focus.

James could see the reasoning there, especially after reading a book on magically conductive wood and finding just how dangerous using white willow was. He really was lucky he hadn't blown himself up, both in the Yew circle and bringing Yavanna into being!

In fact, if it wasn't for the fact he was Shaman, on top of using malachite as a focus and using his magic wandlessly most of the time, he would've _died_ , trying to create Yavanna.

That little revelation kept him up at night, the orphaned boy thinking of ways he could improve so that eventuality never came to pass. Never mind his own well-being; Vera was his responsibility now, and if James died, she'd probably die too, seeing as his bubbly little sister wasn't old enough to fend for herself.

He'd do better. James had a title to live up to, a purpose, and he wouldn't let Vera get hurt while fulfilling it.

On top of this, after five days living in the Manor, both he and Vera were now better attuned to the magic running throughout the old castle; their evenings were generally spent meditating, something Shaman Khepri insisted was a necessity for any Shaman, and, through the practice of their shared Sense ability, both James and Vera now had a better idea on just how extensive the building and grounds of Walnut Manor really was!

The catacombs in particular drew Vera's attention; partially flooded oubliettes and passages abounded in the lower levels, along with even _deeper_ rooms, which James figured must be the Roman villa the River Yew mentioned, long buried and forgotten, even by the Fae…

That, or the Triplets' warnings about menacing creatures living in the catacombs was _extremely_ accurate; either the revenant's rot had poisoned the walls of the ancient villa something _fierce_ …

…or there was something down there even _darker_ than the bound spirit, a feeling of absolute, soul-crushing _thirst_ ripping into their Sense ability, tasting of ashes and despair, when Shaman and kitsune tried to find the original Roman ward-stones. Landlady mentioned that the upper ward-stones, in the Manor's catacombs, were safe from corruption, but drew their power from an even deeper set of wards.

Both Vera and James resolved to mention the dark presence to Landlady… once they felt ready to deal with such a threat… and after they found a way to banish the revenant…

 _And_ had better tools for the job. For James, to say nothing of his fox-sister, didn't want to keep imposing on their host's hospitality! They were Shaman and Familiar! The Voice of Gaia, trained by the Daystar Shaman! Dealing with the Dark was _their_ duty!

So thinking, he rebutted Landlady, Vera watching with interest from the edge of the Great Walnut, where they'd been planning out their day before Melfina showed up, "Landlady, I'm _not_ experimenting! Um…" ' _Here goes nothing…'_ thought James, "After I made Yavanna, I spoke with an ancient Shaman," her lips pursed, clearly not pleased at the reminder that he was a natural at Nature-based magics, but James soldiered on! "She showed me how to make certain potions, poultices and… and, um," he muttered the last, blushing slightly, " _makeup_ … that'll help me on my path. I _need_ those mushrooms, and-and Yavanna made a bunch of those mushrooms beneath a tree, near where she's sat-"

Melfina cut him off, "Which is _right next to the stables._ James," she sighed, looking both tired of this argument and worried, probably for his safety, "that blasted thing killed two of our finest, plus a good number of others."

"Exactly! I need to see the damn thing if I'm going to figure out a way to defeat-ow!" where did she get a fold-up fan?!

"Language, young man! I may not be your mother, but I _am_ responsible for your upbringing, as Vileclaw couldn't find any relations who could take you in without causing a world-wide ruckus!" tapping one of her feet and staring expectantly until he said "Sorry, Landlady…", Melfina then let out a large sigh, "Barring your language, you have a point: you _are_ Shaman, so I can't exactly stop you from investigating the stables without breaking several millennia-old treaties, but!" she cut in before he and Vera could do more than exchange an excited glance, "You _will_ take the Triplets with you, and you _will_ go through the Gardens first; Gregory may have what you're looking for and then some. Better you play it safe than expose yourself to a centuries-old undead; if he doesn't have everything you need, ask one of the griffons to keep an eye on you _before_ going near the stables, understand?"

James nodded swiftly, happy to have a chance to see outside the building! "Yes, Landlady! We'll be careful! I have to run up to my room, so, um," he gave her a questioning look, shuffling slowly toward the nearest stairway, that was answered with one of her soft, chiming laughs.

"Yes, I'll have the Triplets meet you in the Library," she waved a hand, adding to his retreating back, "And remember, be respectful to Gregory and his assistants! He's old and they're mostly griffons!"

"We will, Landlady!" chimed Vera happily from next to James; leaping onto his shoulder as he carefully climbed a mossy set of stairs, his fox-sister giggled, "I can't wait, James! There's so many streams in the Gardens! So full of Water magic!"

Grinning as they reached the second floor and took care to avoid a still-wet patch of stone next to a hole in the floor, James agreed, "I can't wait either, Vera! Breech said Gregory's been here for a long time, tending the Gardens, so all that accumulated Nature magic must be his doing!" she yipped in agreement as they approached their rooms; he was getting better at navigating this place! "Now that I think of it, this explains why the revenant didn't corrupt the Library, too… Okay," Vera hopped off his shoulder, bounding over to James' backpack and staff as the boy himself approached at a steadier pace, "we go into the Gardens, explore there for a bit, meet Gregory the occamy, then we go check on Yavanna and get that monster's measure!" He hefted his pack, now with a few magical books straining the worn piece of equipment, over his shoulders before holding out his hand, "Staff!"

Vera nodded sharply, tails wrapping around James' staff and sending it into her Shaman's grip with a quick snap of the appendages, saying, "It'll probably be a good idea to stay in the Gardens for a bit afterward, James."

It took him a bit to remember, but Vera had been teaching him some of Water's Song, so it wasn't too hard, "So any lingering Darkness gets washed off us and recycled back into Nature, right?" Water wasn't the only form of magic that could do that, but it was the quickest and most efficient way of getting rid of mild corruptions.

According to Vera, who was taught by the Eight-Tails of Deep Currents, one of the kitsune elders, anyone who knows and understands Water's Song doesn't even need to physically touch water to heal themselves of Dark corruptions, especially in places where the element was strong; there was a lot he still needed to learn, though, mainly concerning which Chakras he needed to open and close for maximum effectiveness, but Vera was patient with him and knew how to cleanse things already.

On that note, James realized he hadn't really talked to Vera about where she came from; oh, he knew the name of the Realm, Foxhome, but, James noticed with a pang of shame, the personal knowledge he'd attained regarding his Spirit-familiar, who was practically his sister in soul if not body, was sorely lacking.

He hadn't many friends over his life, James thought as he ran his fingers over the staff's grip, let alone anyone as close as Vera was to him; Jean was, really, the only one he'd felt truly comfortable with, brief though their friendship was. He didn't know what it was, at the time, but in hindsight, she'd felt… _warmer_ , he supposed, than the other children. Earthy. Focused. Always leaping feet-first into anything, and quick to understand it, as though the knowledge she sought _wanted_ , _craved_ to become part of her. A solid presence in the world.

Jean felt nothing like Vera, who was like a wild stream of lukewarm water, always shifting to whatever caught her fancy, but once something _did_ interest Vera, the two-tailed kitsune always tried to assimilate it into herself, surrounding the idea or object from all angles so, once she could see all its facets and understood the dangers, she could avoid them. Smooth. Watery. Cautious and capricious at the same time.

The Dursleys, on the other hand… they felt… _numb._ Cold and calculating. _Inhuman. Unnatural._ Whether that was a product of their environment or just how they were, James didn't know or care to know, at least not yet; that was a mystery for the future, when he understood all there was to his path and Shamanism.

Now that he was Shaman, James knew his views were changing, making him question how everything felt, and this was no exception. ' _There's a clear difference, between Jean, Vera and the Dursleys. Yavanna, too; she feels like the Sun, like Khepri. Life, freely giving and patient, ever vigilant and stronger than steel. Jean grew up in the city, too, so why does she feel different from, say, Dudley? This means something, but_ what? _'_

"James?"

He looked down at Vera, who was looking at him, head tilted in curiosity, "Sorry, Vera. I was… thinking of stuff, from before we met… hey!" he grinned at her, decided, "After checking on Yavanna, we can have lunch, I can tell you about my first friend, Jean, and you can tell me about Foxhome!"

That perked her right up, more than he'd seen since they'd met at the Yew's circle, "Oh, yes! I thought you'd never ask, James! Oh, there's so much to tell you, I've no idea where to start!" Exiting the room, James grinned down at Vera as she bubbled along, both making for the Library and the Triplets, "Mind, I _do_ want to know about this Jean, but-oh, James, the sights I've seen! I wonder if the Faerie would be offended, replicating Foxhome's wonders in their illusions? They're so fantastic, James, the places my relatives have made out of raw magic! Kyuubi's Mountain piercing the heavens, surrounded by the Labyrinth Forests and the Fields of the Inferno and the Whirlpool Palace – that's where I was born, ya know! – and-and the _Aria Citadel,_ oh, I've always _wanted_ to visit but I can't fly…!"

 **[..|..]**

 **All well and good,  
But what's this at Hogwarts?**

In an office full of spindly silver objects and other arcane potpourri, silence reigned, save the occasional shuffle of a wall covered in portraits.

Former Hogwarts Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black pulled at his painted beard, lips pursed in annoyance; Albus was _late_. The brat hadn't been particularly punctual as a pupil and, much to the Slytherin alumnus' chagrin, old age and elevation to the august rank of Grand Sorcerer hadn't helped the boy realize that keeping others waiting was, well…

 _"Bloody rude!"_ Phineas finally snapped, glaring at the empty perch near the Headmaster's desk, the latter of which was steadily becoming more and more laden with paperwork! Idiot _boy_ , taking on more titles than he could handle! Hogwarts required constant attention, for Merlin's sake! "He said, and I quote, _three days, at most!_ "

"Now Phineas," that spineless twit Dippet tried, and failed, to soothe Phineas' fury, "I'm sure young Albus has a very good reason for his tardiness. Being Supreme Mugwump can't be easy for him."

Phineas glared sideways, through the folds and whorls of reality, at his fellow magical imprint, "That is the _point_ , Armando; why, the lad could barely complete a Potions essay or get to his Runes classes on time, when I was Headmaster, and he believes he can juggle both the leadership of this school and the ICW with effectiveness! And Chief Warlock on top of this! Hmph!" Phineas turned away, "With such truancy and poor management skills, no wonder Riddle went sour."

The indignant uproar in support of Dumbledore was, in the former Black Patriarch's estimation, wholly predictable; he didn't know why everyone worshiped the ground the (albeit talented) Sorcerer walked on, but sometimes, it was _annoying_. Hence the small amounts of satisfaction he got from riling up his painted peers; still, he missed managing the school, making sure the students received the best magical education he could provide them. And the issues that'd sprung up since his death! That curse on the DADA position would've been dealt with already, were Phineas still alive…

 _'Oh, to have a body again,'_ thought the construct, just before a singing cry filled the otherwise empty office, heralding a flash of True Flame.

That was the only thing keeping Phineas from constantly tearing strips off the boy: being able to see a fragment of the True Flame in action.

And there was Albus, grandfatherly countenance immediately slipping away into exasperated tiredness; Fawkes, his phoenix, crooned an uplifting melody, trying to keep the aging wizard from collapsing on the floor.

"Hard time of it, Albus?" Fortescue called boisterously, much to Phineas' annoyance.

Sighing even as he smiled and patted Fawkes' head, Albus addressed them, voice slightly strained, "It was the Ottomans, again; they were rather adamant about pushing some legislation through. Apparently," he chuckled, making Phineas roll his eyes, "they don't much appreciate Babylon's continued independence and tried, _again_ , to force them to declare Protectorate status."

Phineas groaned, along with most of the assembled Heads, but he was the only one who spoke up, "I can't imagine _that_ going over well; the last time they tried, back when I succeeded my father as head of House Black, I believe Kefka laughed them out of the debate hall," he smirked, a look more sourly matched by the living Head before him, the other Heads chuckling in remembrance, "before doing the same on the battlefield, except with quite a lot more fire."

"Mmm, quite." Allowed Albus with an agreeing hum, fishing one of those damn sweets out of his silver and chartreuse robes (Phineas was forever grateful his eyes were no longer mainly physical, or he'd have gouged them out long ago, Albus' fashion sense was so _terrible_ ); the Sorcerer popped the sweetmeat into his mouth and, savoring it, asked, "Anything of importance to report?"

 _'Never you mind the mountain of paperwork_ right behind you _, that you'll end up foisting off on your poor, overworked Deputy,'_ Phineas snarled mentally; at least _he_ had the acumen and discipline to do his own paperwork, when he was alive!

Anyway, the former Slytherin gestured airily behind Albus, "Well, aside from the paperwork…" with relish, he watched the bearded poof's face slowly drain of color as he registered the silence in the room, "your 'little project' seems to have failed. Pity that."

Ignoring the chiding of his fellow departed Heads and the living Head whirling around so fast he unseated his startled phoenix, Phineas let out an internal sigh of depression; Potter though he was in name, the Boy-Who-Lived had Black blood in his veins, and if he was gone, that meant Narcissa's little hell-spawn would inherit.

The very _idea_ of that tiny brat inheriting the Black estate would've made Phineas shiver in revulsion, if he wasn't a painting, and even then it was still a near thing!

"He's alive," Albus reported, shaking the former Slytherin Head from his musings and drawing his attention to a softly puffing urn that the Gryffindor Sorcerer was waving his wand about, "Unfortunately, barring the fact that the lad's heart continues to beat," the elderly wizard cast a pointed glare worthy of dragonfire at the other instruments, all of which were silent, before whispering to the air, "When?"

"A week ago," Phineas happily oiled; as Albus' arm snapped up, Fawkes rushing to his Bonded's side with a vengeful cry, the Slytherin added in a happily vicious drawl, "Do give the Dursleys my regards, lad."

Right after the pair vanished, Phineas chuckled to himself, Dilys' cry of " _Really,_ Phineas!" only adding to the humor of the moment. Whatever fate would befall the beings described as "The worst kind of Muggles," by Minerva McGonagall no less, Phineas felt no sympathy whatsoever.

He knew how terrible humanity could be. He was a Black, after all.

Speaking of which, _'The boy is alive…'_ Without another word, the former Black Head made his excuses and shuffled off, mind steeling itself for the incipient meeting with a certain other portrait in a certain townhouse in London.

His great-granddaughter wasn't going to interrogate herself, after all.

 **[..|..]**

If Albus hadn't been so outright _furious,_ he might have thought a bit before flashing into poor Arabella's backyard.

"Oh! Albus, dear, you scared me!" the elderly Squib put a hand over her heart, sitting on her garden bench while her "charges" mewled in concern.

"Terribly sorry about that, Arabella," apologized Albus sincerely, even as he sent a mild Calming Charm her way; now that he thought about it, Albus figured he'd need one of his own, sooner or later…

Really, it never ended! One moment, he'd just averted another Magical War, one which would've absolutely _ruined_ several of the city-states whose survival relied on Babylon's lynchpin status as the Western hub of the Silk Road, and the next he comes home, hoping to put his feet up and deal with some of the more pressing paperwork, only to find that young Harry was _missing!_

Still, he couldn't stop now, and popping into the Dursley backyard was a good way to get a shotgun stuck in his mug; some Muggles… but, now, for Arabella, who looked _much_ calmer, "Sorry though I am for dropping in unannounced like this, dear, I must ask: have you seen young Harry lately?"

"Hmm?" the woman blinked at him owlishly, absentmindedly stroking one of her kneazles, before appearing to rally, "Oh! Yes, I… saw him just this last Saturday, trimming the rosebushes."

"Yesterday, you mean?" maybe this was all a simple misunderstanding, or a minor issue with the wards?

To his dismay, the woman shook her head, "No, the one before… Oh, I've been trying to get in touch with you, actually!" Albus heart began to plummet, "They called in some exterminators and a professional cleaning service, last week… I'm sorry, I can't remember exactly when." And she truly was sorry, Albus could see it.

The poor woman. Riddle's war, damn the madman, did this frail young thing no favors.

Nevertheless, he was a man on a mission, and made his excuses with a warm smile, "I'm sure it's nothing, Arabella, but I'll pop over and see if anything's the matter. If you'll put the kettle on, I'll tell you of Geneva when I return."

That went over well, as it always did, the agoraphobic woman ever eager for visions of faraway places; before heading outside, Albus transfigured his robes into something less magical and more stockbroker, casting a Muggle Notice-Me-Not charm on himself and powerwalking toward Number Four, Fawkes glaring on his shoulder; really, Albus couldn't blame his familiar. He was rather wrathful about this whole situation himself.

Why? Well, there was the slight, not-at-all worrying matter of the _blood ward-stone having cracked in half_. _'Deliberate, or accidental?'_

 **The Bond between the boy and the stone has been severed, Albus** , came Fawkes' reply, verifying what Albus had already seen through his enchanted spectacles, **It doesn't _look_ like it was strained to breaking, but, well…**

' _Appearances can be deceiving. You are right, of course, old friend_ ,' observed Albus sagely as he strode up the walk, expanding the Notice-Me-Not spell with a twitch of his core, spreading it out to encompass the house, ' _Is Harry within the house, hidden?'_

 **Nay,** sighed Fawkes into his mind, before adding hopefully, **He seems to have spent much time nearby, however; we should be swift, old sport. The trail's going cold!**

Humming in agreement, Albus made sure his beard was a respectable length and trim for this decade and rapped his wand on the door; from the looks of things, Petunia was home, as was her son. If ever he doubted the older Evans girl was more Squib than Muggle, it was evidenced in her son.

13 pounds at birth, done naturally, without magic, his _arse!_

Shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind, Albus decided to use Stern Administrator Gaze #3, usually reserved for particularly rambunctious Seventh-Years. There was a time and place for his "Airy-headed Grandfather" persona, after all, and this wasn't it.

Petunia arrived at the door, opening it and asking politely yet warily, "May I help…?" She didn't recognize him at first, but trailed off with a look of horror at the sight of Fawkes glaring down at her.

"Petunia," Albus' eyes weren't sparkling; they held a cold gaze that few saw and lived to tell of, his voice matching that coolness in such a way that the horse-faced woman wilted in terror, "May I come in?"

 **[..|..]**

Albus left three hours later, having waited for Petunia's walrus of a husband to return home so he could get more details on the matter of young Harry's disappearance.

The cowardly woman, honestly, hadn't been having a good time of it; her marriage to Vernon Dursley was merely one of convenience and social self-perseverance, on the horrible man's part anyway. Most of the details Albus ripped from the man's head sickened him in ways he hadn't felt since Riddle's descent into the Dark and the crimes of Bellatrix Lestrange… wherever the insane woman had gotten to after that fateful Halloween was still a mystery, but one for another day.

Going to the Forest of Dean was a lost cause, the last Potter's trail long cold and washed away by a recent rainstorm. ' _No matter,'_ thought Albus, returning to Hogwarts and collecting the urn that monitored young Harry's life essence, still steadily puffing away, _'A brief scrying should reveal the lad's location, even if he's behind wards.'_

Swiftly carving the proper Runes and placing the urn in the northern quadrant of the circle, Albus retrieved a certain velvet pouch from a hidden drawer in the side of his desk; from it, Albus drew a piece of smoky quartz held on a silver rope. A prize from his first Tour of the Continent, this scrying device had never failed him before, and was instrumental in the defeat of… Gellert.

Clearing his mind, Albus silenced the portraits and looked to Fawkes, "A feather, old friend?" With a trill of agreement, Fawkes plucked one of his wing feathers and set it to drift while Albus conjured a map of Europe in the southern quadrant of the Runic circle before kneeling before it, twisting the silver rope about the gnarled fingers of his right hand.

When the feather was exactly ten inches above the western quadrant, the Grand Sorcerer took the other item from the velvet bag, the freely-gifted knucklebone of a Sphinx, and tossed it into the swirling Runes of the eastern quadrant. It landed on the rune wheel contained therein, on the Elder Futhark Rune for 'spirit'.

The feather was five inches away. Albus knew the terminology behind 'spirit' could mean many things; hopefully, it would only mean that Harry was hidden from lesser forms of scrying. The form Albus was currently using wasn't even one of the middling forms, but a high form only taught at one magical academy in these days, after Hogwarts slashed Divination in the 30's: the Glimmervale College of Greater Arcana in the Tibetan highlands.

Albus was lucky that he'd learned this magic while still a boy. When he'd tried, after defeating Grindelwald, to request access to that most prestigious establishment's libraries, the resident Grandmaster dismissed him with a surprising amount of nonchalance and derision, given his station.

Though it was less surprising, once he'd discovered who protected the College.

At one inch away, Albus unraveled the silver rope and let the quartz sway over the map; no wards, not even those of Gringotts, could defy this scrying technique. Once he knew where Harry had gotten to, Albus would go in with Fawkes and-

The feather touched the circle.

-and Albus let out a cry of shock as the urn _exploded_ , the Sphinx knucklebone crumbled to dust, the phoenix feather vanished in a crackle of raw aether, and the quartz prism shot into his open palm, bruising the skin.

He'd also been knocked flat on his back, Fawkes crying out in shock, **Albus! Are you alright?**

"Ah," blinking away the spots in his eyes, the old wizard patted his beard, checking for burning embers, "I'm alright Fawkes…" he looked at the circle…

It was cracked down the middle, the items within ruined; opening his hand, he found the quartz prism had been turned to salt, the silver rope crumbling into carbon ash, but his hand was unharmed.

Stupefied, Albus wondered aloud, "What magic could possibly-"

Then raucous, high-pitched laughter echoed from the urn's remains, ending in a blown raspberry of such intensity that would make even Peeves green with envy, before the bits of pottery crumbled to dust as well.

Albus, however, was supremely unamused, face taking on a furious, stormy cast, blue eyes glowing with a barely-restrained fire; around his office and in random places throughout Hogwarts, stone rattled as the Grand Sorcerer spat a single, hate-filled accusatory word:

 _"Fae."_

 **[..|..]**

Back in Walnut Manor's Library, Lisanna glanced up from where she'd been watching James and Vera frolicking merrily amongst the Gardens, much to the joy of the gardeners themselves, at the feeling of one of her traps going off.

Two seconds later, a grin split her face, _'Nice try, Dumbles, but it'll take more than that to outwit an Unseelie Scribe.'_ And she went back to smilingly watching the boy excitedly pointing out a palm tree to his Bonded and the Triplets, oh, and was that Gregory about to sneak up on the quintet and their griffon guide?

Lisa let out a little giggle, at once hoping Nadira wouldn't get _too_ spooked by her mentor and attack anything that moved, while also amused at the stupid wizard's attempt to bypass her wards. Informing Mel could wait; she didn't want to miss the show!

 **[..|..]**

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 **A/N:**

 **BAH-HAHAHAHAHA! You've just been pranked, Albus, old chum!**

 **No historical entry this time; not enough to go on for this chapter to make one. There'll be a good one next time though, so stay tuned!**

 **We'll rejoin James and Vera shortly, folks! For now, reviewer responses!**

 **skooglie1: I'm mostly trying to get through this pre-First-Year story, so if it seems rushed and not overly detailed… that's on purpose. I'm only writing this for fun and world-building purposes; the later installments will be more detailed, promise!**

 **coduss: In the time period this story takes place, Druidism is the practice of purifying and cleansing the leylines running beneath Britain. At several points in the isle's history, there wasn't any difference between Druidism and Shamanism but, well, the Romans kinda ruined it. Not since the Roman occupation has there been a Shaman in Great Britain; to clarify, Shaman: esoteric conduit to the planet's life-force. Druid: can interact with that life-force to a small extent.**

 **kronos797: Nope! You'll have to wait for that reveal like everyone else!**

 **theawesomest5: Gonna say this now, that's not gonna happen, but what does happen will leave you in stitches!**

 **Thank you, all of you, for your support! Until next time!**

 **~Baked (whose writing fills him with determination)**


	9. Shining Silver,Bright Gold,Bitter Steel

Shining Silver, Bright Gold, Bitter Steel

 **I don't own Harry Potter. I'd settle for a kneazle, though…  
Three historic entries, and then a nice long chapter  
Thank you all for your patience! Enjoy!**

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The Tree of Babel

…rising above all, the tower was lined with countless grasping vines and pungent flowering plants, their scents, and those of the Hanging Gardens, drifting to us in the fields surrounding ancient Babylon, glorious Babylon; upon the summit of the great tower, a silver light shone against the night, drowning even the light of the full Moon with its glorious radiance. The light seemed a beacon, a ray of hope in the night, and the sight of it seemed to wash the weariness of our travels away; I felt as if I'd shed a heavy cloak, and left it in behind me to be forgotten in the dust, such was the power of this wondrous vista.

To our guide I asked in quiet reverence, "That is the Tower of Babel, yes?"

"It has been called that. There are other names. Old names. You may call it Babel." The Bedouin woman replied, voice distant as she joined me in gazing upon the mighty building, illuminated by the many lights of Babylon; even in the night the city was awake, her wide walls welcoming our weary caravan as a mother would guide cold children to a warm embrace. T'would be many minutes yet before we passed through the great Gates of Ishtar, completing the latest branch of our quest to the East.

Therefore, I asked once again, "The light on the summit, t'was hidden from mine eyes, until we crossed the boundary, many miles behind us. Whatever is its purpose, if not to guide travelers through the deserts and fields to sanctuary and safety?"

She did not answer, sun-kissed face furrowed in thought as she formulated a response, as was the wont of all Bedouin. Patiently I waited, and was rewarded for my patience.

"The elders say a Tree grows upon the Tower. I have never seen it, except from afar, but my father journeyed, and saw, and his eyes gleamed with silver when he returned to the tribe, and ever after."

I thought on the little she told me, and reflected on my learnings of the history of this place, and observed, "The legends in the West do not speak of it."

She spat to the side, "The Tree of Babel does not match their legends, so they do not think it worthy. Visitors rarely speak of it, for it does not glow in the Sun. You are the first of the West in many years to see it at night beneath the full Moon, when it shines brightest."

I disagreed on the worthiness of this wonder, but let the matter rest; instead, I prayed upon her for more information, and was rewarded once more, richly.

Our guide told me these things, and I engraved them into my mind, as a mason would stone, even as she spoke:

"Little do I know of these things, Marco Polo, for I am a simple woman of simple means, but I shall tell you what I have heard of the Tree of Babel: the seed of the Tree was a gift to Man, given to us in the days of the ziggurats, of Ur and Sumer, when Man was still young, building their first cities and reaching for reason, when magic was still untamed and spirits walked in throngs uncounted. From whom the seed was given, I know not.

"The High Dragons may have given it to us, mayhap they even made it, for they are older even than Ur and Sumer, and know much that has been lost to Man, so the wise say, but I know next to nothing about the deeds and thoughts of the High Dragons, save what is known to all. Some believe their forebear gifted it to them, to give to us, but who knows these things?

"What appearance the tree takes, my father would not speak, and I have never seen it. To stand on the summit of Babel is forbidden to all save the worthy, and my father was seen as worthy. But he would not speak of it, and there was silver in his eyes ever after.

"I have heard of a story, from a wise woman of another tribe: the Tree turns its leaves and gives a seed once every century, and that seed is given to an Arborist. What they do with the seed, I know not, for I am not an Arborist, and care not for such things. Whatever my beliefs, all who live in Babylon know this: beneath the light of the Tree of Babel there can be no darkness. No evil. Herpo the Foul learned this, praise Allah, before the Horns of Autumn slew him."

And she spat again, at the mention of the Black Fiend, Herpo, and would speak no further of the matter, save, "This is what I know. I pray you are sated."

I prayed to the One True God for the Black Fiend never to return, that he would burn forever in Hell, and thanked Jesus for Sandalphon, the High Dragon that burned away the Fiend's corruptions.

One question more I asked, before reaching those embracing and beautiful gates that were Ishtar.

"What must I do, my guide, to become worthy of seeing the Tree?"

She laughed, as I were a child asking for a sweetmeat, and answered, "I asked my father that, but only this would he say: _You must learn to not ask. You must learn to listen._ And so I listened to the winds of the desert, I listened to their shifting sands, and I listen still, and so, no matter where I may roam, I am never lost, for the winds tell me their secrets, and the sands remember the old paths. All Bedouin know how to do this, but we do not teach it, and it is not enough to stand before the Tree. You must listen, Marco Polo. Listen, and, if Allah has blessed you, you may one day stand before the Tree."

And she laughed again, and would say no more, and, though her words became clear to my mind, many long years after that warm night, illuminated by star, Moon and Tree, the sights before me, of Babylon herself, drove the matter swiftly from my young and wondering mind…

-excerpt from the tales of Marco Polo,  
detailing his first visit to the Free Magical State of Babylon,  
as related to Rustichello de Pisa in Genoa, 1297,  
published in the European magical community as _The Beauteous Wonders of the East_ , 1305

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"You wish to know what a spirit of Compassion feels like? What a dumb question! If you have to ask what selflessness feels like, then you wouldn't understand the description, would you? What kind of monarch are you, then, to not know empathy?"

– Shaman Woterix the Wolf King, to Saladin l  
response to a spirit visiting the monarch in dreams  
Syria, August 1192

"…Woterix then fled across Syria to Baghdad, as Saladin took offense to being called dumb and apathetic by what the Sultan saw as a dirty, smelly vagabond. Such is the importance of having an unbiased interpreter, preferably learned in deciphering both tone and sarcasm, when speaking across cultures.

"Yet, for all these humorous misunderstandings and the Shaman's dismissal of the Sultan's worries, Woterix is correct: if you cannot empathize with the world, accept all its glories and faults in equivalency, a spirit of Compassion will, in general, ignore your platitudes, even if it wishes to aid you and continues to do so; should you force the issue and attempt calling it to heel, the spirit shall twist upon itself, and deny you the light of Compassion. Verily, your impiety and arrogance shall gift you with Pride, and you shall suffer for it. Blessed are those who are of pure heart and soul, indeed, for through them is known the greatest of kindnesses; through them we may know Purity…"

– excerpt from a historical lecture by Persephone, the Fangs of Winter  
Lecture Hall, Alhambra (Magical Quarter), Granada, Spain  
March 1857

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Revenant  
ICW Threat Rating: XXXX, XXXXX if capable of speech

Of the many fiends an explorer may find in the dark places of the world, few are as dangerous and lethal as the revenant. An undead of exceptional power and strength, this creature's abilities seem to vary depending on the creator; in some cases, they are capable of casting rudimentary yet deadly spells, while others may favor a weapon of some fashion to deal with threats. Many that have been encountered use both, but all are terrible foes, especially for the faint of heart. Even the weakest revenant is stronger than ten of the fittest doughty men one might find, and are as durable as any troll or manticore, though the revenant is seen as far more dangerous than either. As they are undying, they can exist indefinitely, needing neither food nor drink, and are both patient and darkly devious; indeed, countless unwary adventurers have met their end by thinking a revenant a statue, or surprised by such a fiend hiding in a shadowed alcove, unknowing of their peril until its cold blade pierced their flesh and drank their lives away, fueling its dark and hateful unlife.

One ability that seems omnipresent in all observed examples can be used by the experienced explorer to determine the presence of such a beast: their very existence corrupts the surroundings they inhabit, causing pestilent rot in growing things, while turning steel and stone to a dark disposition, their habitat becoming a terrifying gauntlet of hazards, where the very environment will seek to trap and slay intruders to the revenant's demesne.

As they are created by the darkest of magics, both the physical and mental capacity of any revenant should never be underestimated. Should you be so unlucky as to encounter such a fiend, conjured barriers of cold iron are strongly advised as a slowing measure; however, unless you have powerful magic or are confident and prepared for close combat, and are possessed of great strength in both mind and spirit, it is the author's recommendation that you flee and seek professional aid. There is little that can stop a revenant forever, and defeating one has never before been done without a large cadre of experienced Battle-mages or Spiritual assistance.

If you happen to encounter one that is capable of speech, it is strongly advised you flee immediately and inform the ICW as soon as possible, should you survive the unlucky encounter. Such fiends are only surpassed by actual Dark Lords, and are listed as Class 9 International Threats. Under no circumstances should one engage such a beast.

For further reading on the dangers and abilities of this type of undead creature, seek The Black Decade by Petra the Luminous, Magick Moste Evile (abridged) by Godelot the Reviled, and Encyclopedia of the Darkest Artes by Grand Magus Yvette Salome and High Dragon Sandalphon.

– excerpt from _The Great Explorer's Handbook_ by Hansel Kopernik  
3rd edition, 1699  
BOOK BANNED IN ALL COUNTRIES BY I.C.W. ARTICLE 17, CLAUSE 3  
GENEVA CONVENTION OF 1956

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 **Chapter 9:  
Shining Silver, Bright Gold, Bitter Steel**

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 **[..|..]**

The Gardens of Walnut Manor were one of the most amazing sights James had ever seen! He'd heard of the Botanical Gardens in London, but had never gone; this place would put them to shame, no doubt!

A glittering, omnipresent light flickered over countless flowers, only some of which James could put a name to; they flowed across his vision in a carefully arranged carpet of colors, interspersed with every shade of green he could imagine; bushes, hedges and shrubs formed walls, separating one section of the sprawling garden from the next. Crushed white stone, trampled into a hard path by countless feet over the centuries, formed the winding path James and Vera found themselves on, after leaving the Library's ground floor and stepping into this arboreal wonderland!

And the trees! Vines and creepers hung from them in curtains, through which Faeries darted, some calling pleasant greetings to the Triplets and the wide-eyed Shaman and kitsune. But the trees! So many were represented, both local and exotic (was that a cocoa tree?!), and the afternoon sun broke through the shining green and gold ceiling of their canopies in shafts of smoky light, lighting their smooth, perfect trunks and making the small irrigation streams bubbling through the glowing Garden shimmer like living sapphire!

"Wow…" breathed James. There were no words for this! Life, delighted and pure, rippled around him and seemed to embrace the young Shaman, warming him to his very bones; it… it felt like…

"Pretty awesome, huh?" Breech piped up in her squeaky voice, having landed on her preferred perch of James' hat, her brothers flitting about the flowers while Vera spun in place in front of him, trying to take everything in at once with her vulpine grin, "Landlady likes walking in it at night, 'specially when the Moon's full."

Finally shaking himself from the awed stupor he'd found himself in, James grinned brightly, "This is _incredible!_ Is-how-you've all been tending to this for centuries, haven't you?!" There was so much to look at, and no word could do it justice! Unless, of course, he thought of how Tolkien spoke of Lothlorien, Galadriel's bastion in Middle Earth, and even that description seemed gray and dull compared to the reality before him!

"Oh, yeah," drawled Bree smugly, reclining on the brim of James' hat, "I mean, we did most'a the work, but it wasn't till Gregory came along that it _really_ started to glow."

Grinning (and hoping he met the occamy, as he'd read about them, and wondered if they spoke Parseltongue) and finally finding his feet, James moved forward carefully, feeling the raw magic rippling over everything: every blade of grass, every knothole and leaf, every grain of dirt; this wasn't just a garden, this… was _art,_ someone's life's work. And James was walking in it!

He was glad he came barefoot; this place felt almost as sacred as the River Yew Circle!

Vera was babbling the whole time they walked toward the first towering hedge, about forty yards from the Library's door, so fast James couldn't understand her until she finally took a deep breath and grinned up at James, "James! Can you Sense it too?!"

Laughing at his Bonded's excitement, James admitted, "Vera, I barely caught anything you said! A little slower, please?"

She bounced in place, much to the humor of a passing clique of Fae carrying what looked like seeds, and chirped, "The streams! They make a glyph! This whole garden is protected!"

James was really surprised by that! Glyph architecture went out of favor after the Roman Empire fell, according to the books on magical history he'd been reading before bed every night; but, then, he also figured it was part of the paranoia of wizards. When something big failed, it went out of favor, instead of someone trying to innovate and improve to prevent it from going wrong again.

Wizards were weird, James had decided, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and learn all he could about magic! There was so much history that the Statute wiped away! He'd even found a book about Egypt in the Library, and there was Khepri, Cleopatra's Consort, and… well, the true story, of how Antony seduced the Queen with potions and spells, gave her to his Legion (he didn't understand what that meant, but it didn't sound good…), and nearly destroyed her nation before Khepri killed him, healed Cleopatra, and tried to save Egypt from the bloodthirsty Romans, only for the two to die together, the blood of their sacrifice protecting the Great Library from any who would seek to destroy it or tear at a single scrap from the scrolls and tomes therein, even to this day…

It was such a sad story, but beautiful in how much Khepri loved Cleopatra, and it scared James, seeing just how terrible the wrath of a Shaman could be. But he took solace in a simple fact, which Vera agreed with: they weren't Khepri, and this wasn't then. He wouldn't be tearing Legions apart with sandstorms and plagues of flesh-eating insects.

There were other things spoken of in that book, hidden things and lost places, of Phoenicia and the Labyrinth of Anatolia, of the Sun's Anvil and the Temple of Flame, of the Valley of Solomon and the Lost City of Shangri-La, and of Sandalphon and Persephone, who were only spoken of as 'wise and eternal', no description on what they looked like, only that they were what held the Darkness at bay. These things were lost to the ages, spoken of in no other book he'd read so far, and asking Lisanna about them only gave him a smirk and the order to continue his studies of theory, to leave history until the day he could reliably call on his magic for anything.

James and Vera agreed, after reading about what'd happened to Khepri: magic was dangerous, and some things were better left alone (Wendelin the Weird came to mind), but once Shaman and kitsune were ready, they'd find these lost things, bring them back to the light, and give everyone hope in magic again! It was what they'd agreed on in the first place, after all! To set things right and find what had been lost.

The wonder before James only crystalized this desire, to explore and uncover and protect; and because Melfina and the Walnut Court never gave any human, save one werewolf, leave to enter this place, James was the first person from the Mundane world to ever see a magical garden, tended to by master Faerie gardeners, griffons and an occamy! And he'd protect it, come what may!

And a glyph of protection was etched into the streams! "That'll keep the place pure and free, right?" he asked, and grinned wider when Vera cheered in agreement and Lou cried out, from his place on a bright yellow lotus, "Give the Shaman an acorn, for he is right!"

Then a feminine voice, which was a _little_ squawky, came from the left, on one of the beaten grass paths winding through a bank of dark-leaved bushes, sounding curious, "Hello? Is that Louie?"

"Nadira!" cried Breech in greeting as James looked over-

-and _up_.

Out of the path came a griffon; pictures in _Fantastic Beasts_ didn't do them justice, not at all! Standing a good two heads over James, she indeed had the body of a lion, with the wings and head of a peregrine, sky blue eyes full of intelligence, long furred ears twitching with curiosity, and her bronzed, dirt-speckled forelegs ended in sharp black talons (with an opposable thumb!), but there the pictures' depiction of what a griffon was ended.

James could Sense it, now that he was up close to one: a griffon was the marriage of two elements of Nature, Earth and Sky. He could Sense that she could Listen to both, and, if his studies and instincts were correct, was attuned intrinsically to the magic of the Air and Earth. Her whole body shimmered with magic, to James' eyes, and she moved with a regality and elegance he'd only seen in Landlady.

The satchel around her neck, with its well-worn gardening tools that clinked when she moved, bounced as the griffon Nadira jerked in surprise at the sight of James and Vera, "Oh! Hello, you must be James! The Fae have spoken of you, and Vera too!" she bent a knee slightly and nodded, eyes smiling brightly, "I am Nadira, daughter of Sozen of the Glade Griffon tribe, one of Gardener Gregory's apprentices. Good morning!"

Smiling and bowing a little in return, James introduced himself happily, "And a good morning to you too, Nadira! I'm James, the Shaman, and this is Vera," the Water kitsune bounced and yipped, moving closer to the griffon dam to sniff her legs, "We love what you've done with the place!"

Ruffling her wings in delight, Nadira proved to be a bit of a chatterbox, "Oh, my thanks! We, that is, the Faeries and my fellow griffons, take great pleasure in tending to this beautiful place! Gardener Gregory is so very knowledgeable in his subject, and I have learned so much from him. He was raised by an Arborist of Babylon, so very long ago, but came here when the Arborist died. His presence is a boon, truly, for the dark being Landlady and her clique imprisoned has struggled to undo all our works, ever and anon; since Gregory came, it has been thwarted in its attempts, but still it persists! Oh, but we have you and Vera to thank, truly, for all but locking the fiend away!"

A bit bashful, James blushed and said modestly, "Ah, it was our pleasure! This place is really beautiful, and it doesn't deserve to rot."

Snap agreed with a nod and dropped a pile of lily leaves on Bree, adding, "Oh, hey Nadira! Show them the palms! You're gonna love this, you two!"

Yipping excitedly, Vera started bouncing around, leaving a trail of glowing water in her wake as she chanted, "Palms! Yes! Palms!" over and over again.

Laughing, Nadira acquiesced; the palms weren't far, but they were tall and glorious, their leaves long and healthy, trunks like marble pillars rising to the glowing emerald ceiling, and their griffon guide seemed quite proud of them, "I have worked on them very much, but they are difficult to grow; the soil must be just right, as must the water and the humidity of this area, but a little magic to help them along never hurts, of course."

"You can do magic?" asked James, watching with delight as Vera chased a butterfly around the gleaming trunks, Louie joining her in her frolicking while Breech and Snapper nibbled on lily petals.

Nadira nodded, eyes wide and serious, "Oh yes. It is a difficult thing to learn for griffons, magic, but I have endured and learned, and have a great teacher in Gregory," she reached out a foreleg in front of James, and, as he watched, she stroked the stem of a dragon snapper that was looking a little dry and wilted.

Green light rippled around the gently moving claw, and James felt the magic of the Earth flow into the flower; before his wide green eyes the flower's dry bits fell off, and then it was healthy again!

Withdrawing her claw, Nadira's tail swished about happily as she looked down at James and chirped, "It is more difficult to do with larger plants, but I am young yet, and Gregory says I shall become better with age."

Smiling, James looked up at her, "I think it's brilliant, even as it is." His new griffon friend ducked her head and shuffled her wings in embarrassment, but then James asked, "I'm wondering, though: how do the palms grow in the winter? Britain's had some pretty bad ones."

Before she could answer, a deep, friendly voice hummed from above and behind them, "Why, magic of course."

Nadira, Breech and Snapper all squeaked and squawked in surprise, while Louie raised a hand in greeting from his perch on the side of a palm and Vera (with a monarch butterfly now resting on her nose) looked at a spot over James' head in owlish surprise.

Turning around, James saw… feathers?

He looked up.

And _up_.

A serpentine form presented itself, massive and regal in its forest green and sky blue-trimmed feathered body, making James wonder just _how_ such a large creature could move so quietly! The occamy, Gregory presumably, had lowered his head until it was just above and behind Nadira's, the long face turned slightly so a slitted golden eye could look closely at James; on the right side of his body, to James' left, Gregory's wing looked a little weak and sickly. Indeed, there was greying fur throughout his long body, which was still coiling out of an archway a little ways away, and there were lines about his striking eyes, which blinked slowly, and there was a curious silver shimmer about them.

While Nadira and the Faeries that weren't Louie spluttered and composed themselves, James mastered himself before this large creature, which was described in _Fantastic Beasts_ as a dangerous magical creature, "Gregory the Gardener, I presume? Your work is impeccable, greater than any I've seen or heard of back in London."

A slow nod precluded a smile and the occamy speaking, deep voice marred only slightly by a hiss and a mild foreign accent James couldn't place, "Well met, Shaman of Gaia, Spirit of Water," Gregory added to Vera, who'd hopped over and climbed onto James' pack during that slow nod, "I feel I must thank you for Yavanna. It has been a very long time since I have felt the light of Compassion."

James could hear the capital letter, there, but waved off the praise, "We only did what felt right, Mr. Gregory. And you're most welcome; hopefully we'll be able to defeat the revenant, with Yavanna's help, so you won't have to worry about your gardens none."

"Ya-huh!" Vera nodded on his shoulder, "I'm really glad we did, too! But it looks like you kept everything neat and tidy, here! If I didn't know better, why, I'd think this was Foxhome!" James' face hurt from smiling, but he kept doing it, because he agreed! This place felt… more than sacred, otherworldly, like there was something… _more_ , to the Gardens of Walnut Manor.

Also, Gregory reminded James of Treebeard, with his slow, humming voice, "I am happy for your praise, but it is undeserved," Vera twitched in confusion, and James looked over at Nadira, but the griffon's face seemed to understand, even as Gregory invited, "Come, Shaman, Spirit. There is something I must show you."

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They walked through the Garden, following Gregory carefully down the paths, Shaman, kitsune, griffon and Faerie clique; remembering his task, James asked the Gardener about the items he needed.

Gregory just looked at Nadira and nodded, and his new friend looked at him and asked, "Do you have a list? I can gather them."

"Oh, I didn't want to impose, Nadira!" surely she had other duties to attend to, after all, and he could do it himself just fine!

She ruffled her wings with another eye-smile, "It is no trouble to me; there is little that needs doing at the moment, and I have already seen the Sapling. A list?" She repeated her request, clearly happy to run errands.

So James drew out the short list of plants he'd need to make five different kinds of Parsel-kohl; one for viewing through a snake's eyes, one for detecting harmful magic, another that showed the properties of magical plants in colors, a type that would let him see the world through heat, like a snake…

The final one, which would require James' blood to activate, would make the Hydra, which granted both Mage-sight and protection against Dark influences; it was one of the strongest kohl patterns Khepri knew, and the strongest she'd taught him.

Or, the strongest he'd been willing to learn. The Gaze of Death, the Basilisk Mask, wasn't something James felt he should know. Way, _way_ too dangerous.

Handing the small sheet of parchment over to the griffon, James watched as Nadira read it over quickly and flicked her ears thoughtfully, "These are relatively common, though papyrus pulp… yes, yes. We should have that in the marsh section. I shall have them brought to your room, yes?"

"Oh, you don't have to go out of your way," James told her, smiling, "Vera and I will be here in the Gardens for a while."

Nadira nodded in a very decisive way, "Then I shall find you once all these have been found," and off she trotted, down a passage formed in the yew and hawthorn hedges.

Then Gregory spoke up, "She wishes to distract herself, young one that she is."

"Why?" Vera asked from James' shoulder, matching James' thoughts once more; was she bored, now that Yavanna was here to tend to everything?

"Cuz she's in _loooove_ ," cooed Breech, before laughing, "Chief Sandor's grandson, Matthew, is smitten with her, and she with him, and the whole thing's _soooo_ funny to watch, those two stumbling around each other like foals, ha!"

"It's _not_ funny!" protested Louie from the air next to Gregory's head, hands on his hips, "It's beautiful, and-and sweet and-"

" _Prithee, lest the wind not suffice to carry mine heart, then let this soul soar in the blue of thine eyes, the sky I wish to fly within forever, my white-winged love,_ pfft-hahaha!" cackled Snapper, sounding like he was quoting something, much to Louie's red-faced anger, "Brother mine, romantic though you may be, Mattie's poetry is enough to make even the Playwright gag!"

"Who's the Playwright, James?" whispered Vera as the Fae dissolved into squeaky squabbling and the party arrived at a row of shimmering grapevines, which appeared to shield the Garden's center.

Feeling a… tender sensation brush across his Senses as they approached the vines, James shrugged distractedly, whispering back, "Dunno. If the stories are right, though… it's probably Shakespeare." _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ sounded like something the Faerie would appreciate, and, if the Statute was what James thought it was, the tale may even be true.

He wasn't about to ask, though. Merry and capricious though the Walnut Court was, he could sense there was a darkness behind them, amongst the Grand Courts, and the few times he mentioned Summer or Winter just got him dismissive laughs, but… the Exile's eyes were cold as they laughed.

So James didn't ask, because he really didn't want to know.

The tender feeling only grew as the vines came closer, and the light beyond seemed white and blinding compared to the emerald-trimmed rainbow they'd been walking though, while Vera nodded thoughtfully.

"Ohhh…" she clicked her tongue and asked, louder, "Who's Shakespeare?"

That brought James up short, and caused the Triplets to cease their argument and stare at Vera in shock. In James' case, _'Oh, I really should have her read some classics! Maybe Lady Lisanna has something…'_

"Barbarian fox!" cried Snapper in faux-offense, holding a hand over his chest while his face took on a disgusted look, "How do you know nothing of the Playwright, whose tales and prose are known to all and sundry?!" he got a raspberry for his trouble.

"Settle down, now," rumbled Gregory, restoring order before things got out of hand; those old, wise eyes looked down upon Shaman, kitsune and Faerie clique, and, once he had their attention, the occamy began to speak, "As Nadira no doubt rambled to you, I was once owned by an Arborist of Babylon; their duties are manifold, but their main purpose is the maintenance of the Hanging Gardens, and that is what is commonly known to outsiders.

"Less well-known is their charge: the Silver Tree of Babel, which was planted in the same moment the tower was completed. In a way, all the wonders of Babylon pale when placed next to the Tower, whose aqueducts run water from the city, to the peak and the Tree, and back down again. But the Tree, that is a true Wonder, though few tomes in the West speak of it.

"Once every century or so, the Tree gives up a seed, and the senior Arborist selects one of his charges to receive the seed; I do not know how this is done, for I was young still when I left Babylon for this place, after my father and mentor died. What I do know is that these seeds are planted in places of great magic, and Walnut Manor was worthy of the seed my father gave me. That my wing was broken at the time and I needed a place to recover was merely a happy coincidence, and, since great joy was had after my coming here, I gave back to the land in thanks, as is proper for a Gardener." Gregory's tail flashed a light green, then, and the vines parted…

Revealing a bright, circular, sunlit courtyard, full of well-worn benches and ancient chairs painted in a riot of colors, Faerie houses in the few trees growing around the border; on one side was an old gazebo, where Landlady and Mr. Vileclaw were taking tea and conversing quietly over reams of papers, a dark brown griffon looming like a shadow over them.

Here, the silver light seemed most prevalent, practically soaked into the very air; it was refreshing, being here…

And the source was before James.

Growing in the center of the courtyard, on a bright green mound placed in a clear pool of water, was a white-barked Sapling. Unlike the quietly sighing trees basking happily around it, this tree was silent… no, James corrected himself while Vera let out a quiet _"Oooo"_ of amazement, not silent; a keening, a chiming from the distance, seemed to both come from the tree, and around the tree, as though from elsewhere!

Its leaves were the darkest green, and its bark was silvery-white. Small though it was (it was only about half-again James' height), there was _power_ in this tree, flowing outward and around and bathing the whole Garden in this silver light and, if he Listened closely, he could hear all the Gardens, and feel everything in them, and James knew no Darkness could flourish in the Sapling's presence.

It took the young Shaman's breath away, seeing this simple yet incredible thing, growing on a grassy mound in a pool of water, when he felt it should be put somewhere better protected. Then he remembered, from his reading of Tolkien's works…

"Nimloth…"

Breech's face appeared over the rim of James' hat, "Huh? What's Nimloth?" Vera was looking at him too.

Blinking away tears, because… if the writer of Lord of the Rings were alive to see this, "It's from a story I read in the Mundane world, a… fairy tale, no pun intended," James grinned at the Triplets before returning his gaze to the silver tree, "The person who wrote it had a tale that was like Atlantis; on his Atlantis, there was a white tree, Nimloth the Fair, that was the seedling of Celeborn, that was the seedling of Galathilion, made by the Queen of Earth in the image of Teleperion, the Silver Light of Valinor, which that Queen sang into existence. From Teleperion came the light of the Moon, and from his sister, golden Laurelin, came the Sun."

James stared at the Sapling, glittering in the Sun, but not truly shining; it looked rather dull, actually, but that didn't stop the young Shaman from smiling fondly. It would be quite the tree someday, so long as no Saurons came to chop it down, "That's what the Tree of Babel sounds like: either Nimloth of Numenor, or Galathilion of Tirion, with many seedlings passed out and around the world, so many could see the beauty Yavanna made."

"Wait, wait, wait," interjected Louie, drawing James' attention; to his surprise, he found that the Triplets and Vera weren't the only ones listening to his small speech. More Faeries were hovering around and listening curiously, "You named that Nature avatar after some Queen in a book?"

"Well, yeah," replied James nonchalantly, "Tolkien wrote that she was the goddess of all growing things, and, um, it was appropriate?"

"Not to mention pretty!" piped up Vera, flowing off James' shoulder and moving a little closer to the Sapling and asking a slowly following James, "Was he, Tolkien that is, a secret wizard or something?"

"That's called a Squib," put in a wasp-winged Fae that was buzzing above James, "and, well, maybe he was. Not like the Shaman would know, yeah?"

"How's he know the story, then? Was it written?" argued a blue-haired and butterfly winged female drifting near an amused Gregory's maw.

James nodded swiftly, "Oh, yes! His son had to finish the story, though, because Mr. Tolkien died before he could finish it. It's quite the amazing tale."

"Can't be better than the Playwright," came from somewhere to James' right, a yelp signifying someone slapping the wit; honestly, there were a lot of Faeries swarming about James now, all arguing and guessing at the names he'd dropped, some even asking Vera for clarification, which his foxy sister mostly deferred to James on…

They tapered off once he got to the edge of the Sapling's pool, but were still asking question after question about Tolkien's work, and whether or not James could give them an anecdote or quote a passage at them.

Smiling, James glanced over at Landlady, who was watching the going-ons with a quirked lip, and turned back to his impromptu audience, "Well, I have the book, but I've got a lot on my plate today. Maybe I'll have a song or two for you, once lunch rolls around," that went over well with the inquisitive Faeries, and they scattered back across the Gardens, spreading the word: a song! The Shaman would sing to them come lunchtime!

Vera rolled her eyes at how easily distracted the Fae could be, and said to Gardener Gregory, "It's really a nice tree! But, there's something off about it," she couldn't figure it out, and it seemed James couldn't either, if his mild confusion was any indication.

Humming, Gregory nodded and said, "This tree is different from others, and is still young. I know not what an adult seedling would be like, but her soul is still unformed, even sixty years after she sprouted."

 _Sixty years!_ Surprise echoed between Shaman and kitsune as they looked between Gregory and his Sapling; the small thing was only a slender stem of silver with a few branches, green leaves shimmering in the sun. How long before she was full-grown?! How long before she could Speak?!

James hoped he was alive to see it, and gazed long on it before thanking the Gardener, "It's really beautiful. The revenant can't damage it, can it?"

The great old occamy shook his head and chuckled, coiling up into a resting position, "No, the revenant couldn't touch it, though the beast was quite miffed at its planting. Caused a ruckus for three days and nights, but it can't leave the chains. Cold iron slows it, and Madame Melfina's power is in those chains. It cannot escape."

Nodding, James tapped his staff against the ground a couple times, letting his magic flow out and in, like breathing, but… magic.

The magic here was pure, and just what he needed before heading over… there. Unsurprisingly, James couldn't feel the revenant clearly in the light of the Sapling, but Yavanna was bright as ever: a golden light to match the silver of the Sapling, pure and uncorrupted, a bulwark against the Dark.

Which made James wonder, given the story he'd just related, _'Does Yavanna know? No, that'd be silly!'_

Making sure his hat was secure, James asked one of the Triplets, "Bree? There's griffons over near the stable, right?"

"Yep! Let's, uh, try not to get too close, okay?" her voice got shaky, there, one of the few times James or Vera heard it do so.

"Never fear!" Vera yipped, bouncing in the direction of the stables after bidding a now-dozing Gregory farewell, "Yavanna's there!"

James waved over his shoulder to Landlady, who gave him a stern look but waved back, and added to a nervous-looking Louie, "And, c'mon, I'm a Shaman you three! What c-"

"Don't." snarled Snapper, suddenly in James' face, hand on a small blowgun that he kept in a belt, orange eyes glaring hard into James' worried greens while the small Fae poked him in the nose, "You. Ruddy. Say. _That._ "

"O….kay," assuaged James, rubbing his mildly abused nose; nodding, Snapper flew away down the path, Louie following after, shaking his head at James exasperatedly. Confused, James looked at his familiar, "What?"

Vera tossed her head and laughed, "My Mima always said, ' _Don't tempt fate, lest fate bite you_ ', James."

Oh. Enlightened, James continued down the path to the stables and the bright glow of Yavanna in his Senses, which cut through a forest of _cacti_ , of all things! "Is that a gecko?! Oh, a bearded dragon! Wow!"

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The trees were darker here. Even the Sun didn't seem to shine as bright, and the Faeries that dared this place looked… rougher, than the others. More like Lisanna than Melfina, they were armed with spears of blue metal, crouched as they were in the dark-leaved muttering oaks surrounding the stables, and their glittering eyes were watchful and promised malice for any who crossed them.

A broken wheel axle stuck out of the ground near the path James was following; it was here Breech flew off James' head and buzzed in front of him, holding out a hand to stop their movement, "Okay," adjusting her overalls, she glanced over her shoulder with a gulp, where a gleaming light could be seen amidst the foggy murk of this place, "Okay… Rules…" she looked _real_ scared, wringing her claws and nibbling on her lip, to both James and Vera's eyes.

Neither could blame her; the ice cold bitterness was clear to their senses, offset by the warm honey taste of Yavanna's light. The two seemed to war with each other, making the air cold at times, while others were the usual warm of late summer.

Hence, Vera was crouched on James' pack, tails waving in agitation and a glare on her foxy face, and James had one hand tightly gripping his staff, while the other was stroking the rib-bone handle of the rattle, frowning.

There weren't many books about revenants, and the ones that _were_ in the library, Lisanna wouldn't let him read. _'But this is my task, as Shaman_ ,' James assured himself while Bree composed herself, _'I have to try, and if I know what it_ really _feels like, I might be able to defeat it.'_

Louie flew up to his sister and rubbed her shoulder with an encouraging smile, "You got this, Bree."

"Yeah… _yeah._ I got this. Right!" even though she looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, Breech ploughed on, "One, don't touch the chains. You _don't_ want to know what happened to the last Faerie who did that. Two, don't go _past_ the chains, but," she smirked at James, who'd rolled his eyes, "that's kinda given, yeah? Three… actually," Breech brightened, "I think that's it. Now let's get this over with, my lunch is callin'."

Agreements were had all around, beneath the watchful eyes of dozens of Fae, but right as they were about to move forward…

A golden-brown griffon landed in front of them with a heavy thud; his cloud-grey eyes looked them over right quick as he asked sharply, "Where do you think you're all going?"

"Hey, Matthew!" crowed Snapper, folding his arms at the now-frowning griffon, "How's the poetry coming, eh?" said griffon's eyes narrowed at Snap and his giggling siblings in annoyance; James knew it was all in good fun, but Khepri's last advice echoed in his mind.

 _'When you love someone…'_ James cleared his throat and said, "Okay, you three, don't annoy Matthew, what he does with Nadira is his own business," once the Fae sobered up, James turned to the griffon guard, who was still looking stern, "Vera and I want to see Yavanna, and examine the revenant. Landlady said we could," a _yip_ of agreement came from Vera, who'd tensed after Breech's warning.

The guard gave a wary nod and said, "Don't get too close to the chains, young Shaman. The revenant has a large blade, and if it strikes you…" brown-gold wings shuddered in revulsion, Matthew glaring in the direction of the stables.

But James wasn't to be deterred, not from his task, and smiled, "We know, we'll be careful," and began walking with a purpose, Vera's tails drawing moisture from the surrounding air; though there was little they could do against such a strong undead, she figured a little defense was better than nothing at all.

And besides, Vera thought with a vulpine grin, they had Yavanna! The little kitsune couldn't wait till James saw how beautiful and grand she was!

So it was that they slowly, carefully approached the stables, the Triplets slowly migrating closer to Matthew, who was following James at a respectful distance; the sky seemed to darken and the air took on a chill the closer they came to the corrupted place. Yet, for all the darkness, Yavanna's light seemed to glow brighter, and there were wisps of tender, warm light winding between the worriedly murmuring trees.

Then James saw her. _Yavanna._

The first thing he thought, on seeing the Nature avatar he and Vera brought into the world, was, _'Blimey! She's big as a house!'_

Sitting before a row of icicle-laden chains was a golden-green fox. Her coat was a rippling, undulating swirl of grasses, mud, flowers, leaves, and stone. Large ears pointed skyward from her unmoving head, forty feet off the ground, and nine sinuous tails weaved behind her; occasionally, a wisp of golden light would manifest at the tip of a tail, and with a light flick would dart off through the air, encircling the grounds in front of the great creature.

James had felt her before from afar, and likened her presence to that of the Sun, but now that he was here… it… the feeling was strange. Yavanna felt like the wind blowing through the Forest of Dean, and Vera's snuggles, and Jean's hugs; brighter than the Sapling, with a greater imprint in the world than the Yew, Yavanna was everything he'd dreamt of and more… James couldn't say exactly how it truly made him feel, but it almost made him cry, seeing the Avatar of Compassion in person. She was difficult to look at, like staring into the Sun on a cloudy day, but beautiful, unlike anything he'd seen before!

About her seat, where the nine-tailed forest-fox held vigil, were flowers, mushrooms, and vines, all of every color and type he could imagine. _'Maybe I can pay Nadira back for helping me,'_ thought James, hoping the griffon dam didn't trouble herself too much on his account.

Then a sound came, like rusted iron screeching over granite, giving an undertone of **rage** and **anguish** to James' Sense, which he was still using.

"Ah!" grunted James, feeling both the impure emotions hit him like a mallet. Vera snarled on his back, claws digging into the worn backpack she was perched on, tails readying a pair of snowy spears.

Breech shouted squeakily behind him, "James! You good?!"

Taking a breath and shaking his head to clear the awful thoughts away, James called back, "Yeah… j-just didn't expect that." He glanced up at Vera; her normally happy blue eyes were pinched in anger, a small growl warbling in her throat as her tails thrashed in agitation.

He couldn't blame her, but there was something… _wrong_ , here, "Vera?" she blinked and looked at him, "You think Yavanna can Sense it?"

Vera's nose and ears twitched in thought for a moment before she nodded, "Yep! She might even be able to tell us about the spirit that's bound to that filthy thing!"

Nodding in agreement, as he'd read of how a spirit of Compassion could see into the deepest parts of a soul, James approached the massive fox.

He saw her face for the first time: long and vulpine like Vera's, but on a far larger scale, her teeth were mad of stone, and her eyes were of glowing pink water. The golden light beneath Yavanna's 'skin' pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and steady, thrumming through James.

" **Aaaaooooooooo!** "

Both James and Vera yelped at the awful howl of fury that was leveled at them, whipping their gaze to the stables, James' staff leveled shakily in its direction as they took in the sight with wide, fearful eyes.

Once, it might have been a nice place to stay, with the stone outbuilding and wooden rafters denoting where the stables proper once were, where the owners no doubt kept the horses that lived there happy and dry; now, though, it was a sorry sight to see, the stone runny with black ruin, the wood twisted and _evil_ , and all the grass and trees within the chains were grey and dead, the stifling smell of deep rot and wormwood permeating the air. No bird sang, no Faerie or griffon flew overhead. Save the wind and the creaking of Yavanna's tails, and James' quick breathing, all was silent…

The chains surrounding the stables were covered in deep blue runes, and icicles hung from them as they leapt from one stake to the next; while James searched for the source of the howl, he spotted small nicks and dings on the chains and the stakes that held them fast. _'It's been trying to escape!'_ he realized, taking a firmer grip on his staff and drawing the rattle, lips pursed in focus.

Vera stilled, then, and a frisson of raw _fear_ came across their Bond, "James…"

He saw it.

Lurking in the wooden stables were two glittering rubes of **malice** set in a full-face helm of matte-black; it was giant, more than seven feet tall if it was an inch, covered in ancient, rusted armor, and, even from this distance, James could _smell it_ , a foul, rotting scent worse by far than any back-alley dumpster on a hot day. It creaked and groaned as it moved, pacing, _waiting_ , glaring at everything hatefully, and when it turned James saw the blade it held: a ridiculously huge blade, wider than James was and three times longer than he was tall, with hideous green runes and a rime of ice rippling over the surface.

James wanted to puke just looking at this fell being, this hideous abomination! How could something like this exist in the world?!

Then there was a soft creaking, and one of Yavanna's tails encircled him, pure heartwood brushing against his ankle-

-and both he and Vera Sensed something else, buried deep within the revenant's being.

 _Anguish._

 _Despair._

 _Sorrow._

 _Suffering._

 _Loss._

 _Heartache._

Yavanna's tail left him.

And the revenant _roared_.

" **Ghhhhaaaaaaooooo!** " the fell creature lunged forward suddenly, into the darkened midday sun, making a beeline straight for James and Vera, who were frozen in shock at the emotions Yavanna showed them.

It cleared half the distance to the chains, which started to glow, when Yavanna _barked_.

Like a physical blow, golden light erupted on the revenant's breastplate, knocking it back! The chains pulsed, then, with white light, and the undead beast staggered away from them, snarling in hatred, keeping the flat of its blade between it and the chains, and Yavanna, who growled, the sound like stones tumbling down an embankment. Moments later, it was back in the stables, glaring at everything again, but especially James…

Who was shaking, as he understood what was happening here, _'There's… someone. No, a soul! This used to be a person! Oh, this is terrible!'_ Swallowing his fear, James glanced out the corner of his eye at Vera, who was doing the same, eyes wide with shock, "Hey Vera?"

Her voice sounded dry, "Yeah, James?"

He gulped, whispering, "I think there's a person in that thing…"

"Yeah," she nodded, tails twitching with worry, "What do we do, James? They're in so much pain…"

James squared his shoulders, "That's easy, Vera," he holstered the rattle, gave Yavanna a pat on her withers, and crouched to pick some ingredients for his stores and Nadira, "We study, we get ready, and we set them free."

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 **a/n:**

 **WOOOO! We're back, and we finally see the revenant and meet the last members of the cast (minus Shepherd, but that'll come in a few chapters!)!**

 **Next chapter, James/Vera/Yavanna/Triplets vs The Revenant!**

 **Reviewer Responses!**

 **ElementalMaster16: Yeah, Harry'll have some trouble later on, but that's not for some time. It'll become more evident once Remus shows up. And Melfina's just trying to get Harry a good grounding in magical theory before letting him try anything practical. Next chapter shows just how powerful Shamanism can be, and throws a wrench into her "slow and steady" teaching plan.**

 **Mr. Skellington: Hello Jack! The Kefka name drop was more about the seven-tails in Babylon than that clown guy from Final Fantasy, and I'm happy someone mentioned those AU clues! Wait till the end of this instalment, things are very different in _this_ magical world!**

 **Mizzrazz72: More arbiter than leader in this story, but yeah, he needs less on his plate. Not to mention some plot armor lol.**

 **Ghostcrab311: I aim to please!**

 **Theawesomest5: Your whole comment = how I felt writing that scene! Good rhymes, mate!**

 **L'assassin orange: I _hate it_ when people act like Albus is some manipulative, Jafar-esque evil mastermind when there are so friggin many other, more believable reasons for the old man losing the plot; hence, this characterization, which I feel is the most believable path. And yes, James and Vera, while both very eager to get started on their adventures, seem to have missed the "Dangers of Adventuring" seminar at the local Library, lol, but luckily the Fae are keeping a close eye on the two. Next chapter is less 'verge of disaster' than… well, you'll see!**

 **Lynxgoddess, elvander72, Charlie0925, Rebecca, and all the wonderful people who've faved and followed: thank you for your continued support!**

 **See you all next time!**

 **~Baked**


	10. The Twilight Shepherds

**...**

 **The Harry Potter franchise is, obviously, not mine.  
I wouldn't be writing fanfiction if it was.  
Also, I do not in _any way_ claim ownership to  
 _The Lord of the Rings_ , or any of the derivative works, songs, or tales  
of the Master, JRR Tolkien. I am not _nearly_ that good at writing!**

 **For the music: search "The Edge of Night" on youtube. You'll want the Celtic Angels version.**

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"…In the same manner, there is a marked difference between the Shaman and the druid, though the unlearned layman would not immediately recognize the contrast. Yes, my friend, you are hardly a layman, but the differences between Shaman and druid are easy to miss, to those who know little of the former. Understandable, really; most Shamans have been reclusive hermits, while druids are easily identified.

"I blame the druid's observed disposition toward frilly robes and walking around barefoot, personally. Alas, forgive my prattling. You desire knowledge, and, happily, have come to the right person! I shall keep my descriptions as brief yet bountiful as possible, as you'll no doubt wish to argue the minutiae and underlying theories in person.

"A druid is a practitioner of, first, Spiritual magic; in the execution of some of their duties, such as the purification of a being or location, druids call on old, named Spirits to assist them. Old British or Norse culture would call them gods, but primitive man would not have been able to tell the difference; indeed, I've often a difficult time relating such distinctions to my apprentices! These Spirits take on many forms here in the Mundane realm, as you are no doubt aware, but usually will reflect the Spirit's idea of how they _should_ appear before our eyes; generally, especially so in the case of fertility "gods", such Spirits will, instead of taking on humanoid or animal forms, manifest as rays of light or shadow, or simply as a fleeting "presence" in the world. This is more to ensure the acting druid or druids are not overtaxed by the raw, overwhelming power these great Spirits hold; more druids does not improve the likelihood of a corporeal Spirit, by the way.

"Secondly, a druid, given their limited (and this must be stressed, a druid's influence is far less in this aspect than that of a Shaman) ability to access the Spiritual realms, is able to recognize and, with practice and learning, influence the speed and breadth of growing things; not only in the professions of gardening or arborism, but these abilities also manifest in some minor form of geomancy. The isles of Britain are a prime example of the beauty possible when many druids work in tandem, over centuries, to fashion the land.

"It, however, must again be stressed that the average, singular druid is not very powerful, in the sense of large or spectacular magic; many of the wonders wrought by the great druids of old, Hogwarts, the standing stones of Essex, Wales and Scotland, Uffington White Horse and its surrounding points of interest, to name a few, were only possible through large, lengthily and exhaustive rituals, at most involving more than one hundred druids; in the case of Hogwarts, they were of course assisted by the Mage Founders. Nevertheless, you are correct: a druid's garden is quite the sight!

"Conversely, a single Shaman (with Spirit-familiar) raised the Tower of Babel and founded the Arborist Guild in Babylon; through a ritual produced and executed by a single Shaman, the Great Library at Alexandria cannot be stolen from, set aflame, or otherwise vandalized; the foundations of the Alhambra, the city of Tenochtitlan, and certain parts of the Forbidden City were all created by singular Shamans.

"On the other side of this coin most intriguing, Herpo the Foul, may Marduk curse his name and deeds forever, was a Shaman turned to Dark paths; I hardly need relate the Black Fiend's many dark and terrible works to you. Thankfully, as of this writing, he remains the only Shaman who openly reveled in the Darkness. Others have been seduced to an, again thankfully, lesser extent, and have either been found out and slain or lived their lives in bitter reclusion and contemplation.

" _That_ , my friend, is the main difference between druid and Shaman: personal, individual power. A single Shaman is capable of changing the world in ways that would take _thousands_ of druids to accomplish. The reason for this, as you have stated your library lacking in this knowledge, is thankfully known to me; I shall elucidate forthwith.

"To become Shaman, one must begin their path with respect to nature, to Gaia, Mother Earth if you will; there is little instruction involved in the beginning of each Shaman's path, which is to say that there is no master/apprentice affair, no tome or scroll that can teach a person to become Shaman. It is a way of thinking, of behaving, that draws the attention of Spirits and, in that holy marriage of soul and magic that is a Spiritual Bond, brings the attention of Mother Earth upon the rare individual who arrives at this state of being.

"Forgive me, but the fine details of how this selection takes place are unknown to all I have interviewed on this subject, save Persephone of course; unfortunately, and I hardly need relate the reason, as you know it well beyond my ken, I was rebuffed at the request for an audience. Interestingly, however, there does not appear to be a minimum age limit; a child may happen upon this mindset, and become Shaman! Such a feat is rare, of course, but you are correct in that Shaman Jander was one of the youngest, having attained the mantle at a mere 15 autumns.

"What follows is not from my own observations, but from the records of the Arborist Guild: should this individual, whether they be human, centaur or, yea, even House Elf, should they stand before the soul of our world that is Gaia and be seen with favor, they then become Shaman: the conduit for Her will and magic, an agent of Nature itself.

"Any language spoken upon the Earth, be it of man or beast, mundane or magical, a Shaman understands and may speak with ease; inherited magical languages, such as Parseltongue and Draakensprek, excluded. Any land upon which such a being stands shall respond to their will and magic, for the Shaman's will is seen as Gaia's, made manifest; apparently, there are exceptions to this last observation, such as in the case of large cities or areas that are barren of both magic and life. The _why_ of this, however, remains a matter of fierce debate amongst my peers, one which I am hesitant to engage in; I am but a humble teacher, and those arguments could be held in an arena, or upon a dueling stage.

"It is said, and on this we have only rumor and hearsay, as this phenomena has rarely been observed, that a Shaman may commune at will with any of the Spiritual planes; yea, verily, it is also said that a Shaman is not physically nor magically limited to the Mundane realm at all, but that they may walk the manifold planes that brush against our own yet are as different from our world as earth and sky.

"For all this grand power, however, a price has been observed; tis a theory of mine, that Gaia limits each Shaman to a select "expression" of her will, for each Shaman has exhibited individually unique abilities with each iteration. Take Shaman Khepri for instance, Cleopatra's Royal Consort and one of history's most famed Shamans; many are the legends of her awesome and terrible power, of the plagues and sandstorms and swarms of insects she inflicted upon the invading Romans. Yet her self-appointed title in the Book of Queens is 'Shaman of the Daystar'; to wit, her abilities centered on the powers of Sol, the Sun itself, along with the powers all Shaman possess! Tales there are where she brings drought and blistering sunlight to waylay an attempt on the Sinai by the Parthian Empire, or, with but a word, flooded the Nile following a bleak Winter at the great river's headwaters.

"Likewise, there is Shaman Tlaloc of Azteca, who brought such fertility and bounty to his people, yet is reviled by the Anasazi as "Blood Rain Fiend" in what writings remain of that reduced people; for all this, his title amongst those remaining Azteca is, indeed, 'Bounteous Shaman'.

"Do not bother looking for a book or other text which mentions this last. You'll have to travel to Angkor Wat to find the relevant scrolls, located in that illustrious redoubt's many reliquaries and vaults. However, as you no doubt have found in Shaman Jander's notebooks, Tlaloc, toward the end of his life, was indeed much more readily accepted by the Tibetans for regulating the monsoon seasons that, for centuries, were thrown out of sync with the natural cycle of things; though this is as you expected, I hesitate to relate the details in writing.

"Should you find yourself wanting a vacation from that dank and rainy place you have the nerve to call a country, I will be more than happy to assist you and your lovely wife on a pilgrimage along the Silk Road to Angkor Wat so we may look upon these writings and, by your leave, happily debate their merits and implications…"

-from a letter addressed to Nicolas Flamel  
written by Grand Magus Yvette Salome  
dated April 1667  
Budapest Historic Letter Archive  
Restricted File Department

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…And through the window I beheld  
golden fields beneath golden horizon,  
and I knew, then, that mine eyes stared  
upon that rarest of visions, beyond mortal ken.

Through the window I stepped, laid hand  
upon shining grain, listened raptly to the song  
echoing from far off, and then  
it came: the guardian of this holy den.

No word was spoke, no description can justify;  
yet I knew the mind of the Archon,  
in that hallowed bastion beyond the sky.  
I wept, and turned, and departed once more,  
for t'was not yet my time.

Yet ever do I dream, and in dreaming, return  
to that far off wonder, my home, where  
we all will one day find rest eternal:  
Elysium.

-from "The Long Journey"  
Author Unknown

Excerpt from a cache of letters and scrolls  
found in a cave near  
Thebes, Greece, 687 CE

Translated and published in _Letters and Verse of the Ancient World_ , by Various,  
Compiled by the Great Library at Alexandria, 922 CE

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 **Chapter 9  
The Twilight Shepherds**

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The afternoon that followed James and Vera's visit to the stables was merrier than said visit, mainly because James kept his promise to the Fae. Though the truth behind the revenant, the fact that the soul pinned within its body wasn't there willingly, darkened his thoughts at first, James, Vera and the Triplets started feeling better once they were back in the shining light of the Gardens and got some lunch in them.

So it was that, with fresh corn beef and pickle sandwiches warming his stomach, James sat on one of the riotously-colored benches surrounding the Silver Sapling and withdrew, from the depths of his pack, his blue-fabric-bound first edition copy of Tolkien's _Silmarillion_.

The pages were only slightly yellowed with age and handling, but the spine was still strong and unbent, the book's dark blue cover stainless, it's title and four-leaved symbol still gleaming with faded gold in the afternoon Sun reflecting off the Sapling. Even now, as Faeries and Griffons both began gathering about while James smiled fondly at the tome and Vera made herself comfortable at his left thigh, he _still_ couldn't believe someone tossed this treasure in the bargain bin! Jean would've had a fit!

"So, James," James looked up to find Melfina walking amongst her quietly tittering subjects, carrying a blue-and-red checkered blanket under an arm, which she unfurled onto the emerald green grass nearby with a smile, "I hear you've got a song or story for us Faerie." A squeaky raucous of cheers was the Walnut Court's answer.

As James smiled bashfully at the Faerie's eagerness for a tale (surely they'd heard and read plenty, with their library and all!), he noticed Nadira perking up and beckoning at the sky with a claw. Matthew landed a moment later, glancing about curiously, whereupon the female Griffon pulled him down and began whispering into his ear excitedly.

In fact, there was Gregory, looking over from his resting spot with interest! And the other Griffons that tended the Gardens!

Surprised he'd drawn such a crowd, James cleared his throat and told Landlady, "Well… they're not my songs or stories, but I think everyone here'll appreciate a tale that's rather grand!"

Around another round of eager exclamations and the quiet grumbling of Mr. Vileclaw, who stumped over to Melfina's blanket and settled himself on a low chair Sir Cookie, who'd appeared further away in a hedge's shade, conjured with a finger snap, James went on in an officious tone, as was worth Sir Tolkien's great work, "While I was in school, my first friend and fellow explorer, Jean, showed me a book written by the same author who wrote this," a tap on the blue cover, "and that book was called _The Hobbit_.

"I liked it so much that I looked for other books written by the man, one Dr. John R. R. Tolkien, professor of literature, and found _this_ ," James held up the book, spine out, and panned it about so all the curious Fae and Griffons could peer at the gold lettering, "A first edition copy of the world he wrote of, and all its millennia of history, _The Silmarillion_."

Carefully settling the book's spine in his palm, James smiled to all and bade, "Be warned, this book won't be finished today, as I'm a busy Shaman and you're all busy Faeries and Griffons," a humored laugh came from all, Melfina giving her Court a mock-stern look, "Now, our tale begins, as any great, wonderful, tragic, beautiful tale should, at the beginning of all things, in the unformed mists of ancient times, before the first songs were sung, before any bird cried… and," James smiled wider, but his eyes were serious, "indeed, before the world as we know it came into existence."

With the gathered Fae and Griffons of the Walnut Court now listening attentively with the odd flick and rustle of wing, and Vera wiggling in anticipation against his arm, James opened the book and turned to the first chapter.

" _Ainulindale,_ " intoned James, voice even and face sober, " _The Music of the Ainur._ " Taking one more deep breath, James read.

" _There was Eru, The One, who in Arda is called Iluvatar…_ "

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Melfina watched with wonder as James finished the beginning of what was surely to become a fantastic tale, the boy seeming to more than stand there as Vera all but vibrated upon a bench and watched her Shaman regale the Court, wide vulpine grin firmly in place:

 _"'I know the desire of your minds that what ye have seen should verily be, not only in your thought, but even as ye yourselves are, and yet other. Therefore I say:_ Ea _!"_ James threw a hand into the air with a great shout, his childish yet grand voice carrying to every raptly listening ear! _"'Let these things Be! And I will send forth into the Void the Flame Imperishable, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall Be; and those of you that will may go down into it.' And suddenly the Ainur saw afar off a light, as it were a cloud with a living heart of flame; and they knew that this was no vision only, but that Iluvatar had made a new thing: Ea, the World that Is."_

Before James could go on, a cheer came up from the gathered Fae and Griffons, making the boy start and blush with a pleased yet bashful grin, and Melfina's voice was among them as she applauded the tale thus far! Her good friend Vile stamped his cane into the ground and Gregory lightly slapped his tail against a path in their own approximations of applause, with Cookie shouting "Oo-De-Lally!" to much laughter and repetitions of the cheer.

Once the most recent raucous died down, James found his place and went on with the story, but Melfina only gave it half an ear as a humming of wings heralded Lisanna's arrival on the Landlady's picnic blanket, followed by that of her sister's soft whispering, "I have heard many creation myths in my day, but this, Mel, this one may be the best; Manwe seems like one of the High Dragons, and this _Melkor_ seems much like what we have heard of the Black Fiend."

While Melfina agreed with her sister, she still shushed Lisa and hissed, "We will speak on this later, my sister, for I wish to hear what happens next!" A grinning, vigorous nod was her answer as, before them, James detailed the first days of Ea, and not a few listeners shivered at hearing of that first war, before time was counted, between those Ainur who became the Valar and the greedy usurper, Melkor:

 _"…and they built lands and Melkor destroyed them; valleys they delved and Melkor raised them up; mountains they carved and Melkor threw them down; seas they hollowed and Melkor spilled them; and naught might have peace or come to lasting growth, for as surely as the Valar began a labour so would Melkor undo it or corrupt it. And yet their labour was not all in vain; and though nowhere and in no work was their will and purpose wholly fulfilled, and all things were in hue and shape other than the Valar had at first intended, slowly nonetheless the Earth was fashioned and made firm. And thus was the habitation of the Children_ of _Iluvatar established at the last in the Deeps of Time and amidst the innumerable stars._

"So concludes the _Ainulindale_. I hope you all found it enjoyable," finished James, tucking a stray leaf between the pages as a bookmark before bowing to his audience, who nearly drowned out the young lad's final words with their loudest cheer yet!

Amidst the cheers, Melfina heard one of her Court say to another, "See there, Ulrich! How's that match up to the Playwright, then?" Others were calling for more of the story, whilst still others were asking silly questions that, Melfina felt, would no doubt be answered further into that blue text held in the young Shaman's hands.

Therefore, she stood, Vileclaw's gravelly voice yelling for quiet over the din; her Fae knew better than to go against Vile's word, as they all knew it was as good as Mel's, such was their friendship and fondness for one another. But, though all were now silent and every eye turned to their leader, she didn't speak, yet.

The approval of her fellows and tenants came first.

First, she looked to Sandor, who was seated near his grandson. The great eagle Griffon nodded once, a pleased look in his amber eyes; behind him, Gregory's smiling face and the eager gaze directed at the Shaman were answer enough. Next, Melfina's seafoam eyes found Cookie, who was smiling wider than she could easily remember; near him, hiding in the hedge that shaded the former Seelie Scribe, the House Elf Asha's wide blue eyes were looking to James in wonder.

Finally, she looked to a nearby stream, where a few Merrow were already nodding to her unasked question. She needn't look to Vileclaw, as he'd hummed thoughtfully wherever the Valar Aule was mentioned; Shepherd was with his relatives on the Isle of Man collecting fish and other foodstuffs for the Manor's winter stores, as was his wont each year, and would not return until early October, but Mel had no doubt the young Selkie's voice would have been amongst those calling for more of this tale.

Only then did she favor James with a smile, declaring for all to hear, "This Tolkien fellow spins a fine tale, and you tell it well, James Stormcaller; and that is very high praise indeed, to come from the Fae Folk! Therefore, at your convenience, I would like you to tell the tale further… once a week, perhaps?" That went over well with her Court and tenants, a murmur of approval running through the throngs.

The lad looked about to agree, but then he blinked, and, around the shadow of a mischievous smirk, gave his answer, "That seems fair Landlady, and it'll be my pleasure! Say, every Wednesday?" Melfina was about to nod, happy with this easy arrangement, when James quickly added, "And, if you'll please, I'd like some of your musicians, so I might teach them the songs Tolkien wrote!"

That went over _very_ well with much of her Court, dozens of cliques volunteering for the job in mere moments, with such volume and exuberance Melfina didn't know where to look first!

 _'The little brat pranked me! Ha! Right, lad, you get a free one,'_ letting the little jest go as just that, Mel was about to select a clique of five who were shouting loudest and, from her memory, were not particularly responsible for duties beyond the tending of the forest, when Breech cried over the swell of voices.

"We saw 'em first, ye ruddy vultures!" crowed the young Fae in challenge, flying to her favored spot on James' hat, her brothers flanking her at the surprised Shaman's shoulders and glaring down any who'd approach, the little Faerie she's accent becoming heavier with her excitement, "Iffin' any of ye wanna fiddle fer James and Vera here, ye'll hav'ta oust _us_ first!"

"Settle down," Melfina drawled, which quelled the arguments immediately; after thinking on it for a moment, the Landlady struck a thoughtful pose and spoke officiously, "So be it: the Triplets will provide what music James the Shaman requires for this tale," cue disappointed groan of much of her Court, "and I will assign further accompaniment, should an orchestra prove more appropriate."

Then she grinned widely, happily, and declared once more, "And no doubt we will need one, before this tale has ended! Your manner of storytelling is rather grand indeed, James Stormcaller, the best telling I've heard since the Playwright put on a merry show for Summer and Winter long ago! Let there be a story!"

Another raucous cheer was the response to her declaration, Shaman and kitsune joining in the merriment; Nadira even managed to approach, with her beau in tow, and babble to James and Vera for a few moments, while the former Scribes and their Goblin tenant convened near the hedges.

Cookie was still smiling as he observed, "I have not seen such joy in our Court, not for many decades at least! By the Reed," he glanced to Lisanna, who held a thoughtful expression upon her face, "have you heard nothing of this Story-Spinner Tolkien, Librarian?"

After a moment of thought, Lisanna let out a frustrated huff and admitted with a smile, "By the Reed indeed, Cookie, I have not! Given that it is a tale from the Mundane world, however…" she shrugged before looking down her nose at Vileclaw, "And what of you, Goblin? Have you heard tell of this man in your dealings?"

"The name _does_ ring a bell," the old Goblin said slowly, rubbing a temple as he thought on the matter before saying to Melfina, "If you might assist an aging accountant, dear Landlady; I'm _sure_ the name is written somewhere in my records, but…" he shrugged, and Mel understood, though she still huffed before answering her good friend.

"And so, you need someone better equipped in manuscript organization and managerial acumen, not to mention a fully-functional spine, of course," though one might take offense at such words, they were said with eager fondness, and were responded to with a rueful, toothy smile from Vile; it was about time the old rock-muncher asked for her aid in cleaning up that mess he called his "vaults"! "I accept freely, Vile; now, enough on the matter of this author," her merry smile fell away, replaced by a visage of seriousness, "Our resident Shaman's voice… did you all notice it?"

Cookie sobered up quickly, though there was some of that old Seelie mischievousness behind those grey eyes of his, "That he is unconsciously lacing his words with magic? Oh yes! I nearly thought I was in the story, or that the lad is more Bard than Shaman, so potent and subtle is this ability; not since… well," he glanced at Lisanna with a wary look, "Not since our Exile have I born witness to such a feat."

"You needn't step around nettle in my presence, Cookie, I am not some delicate flower, as you _well_ know," responded Lisanna easily, though her brow was lightly furrowed in concentrated thought; while she went on a moment later, Melfina watched Shaman and kitsune, out the corner of her eye, take their leave of the Gardens with the Triplets after bidding Gregory a fond farewell, "In fact, I agree… mostly. T'was much like the orchestral Glamours employed by the Grand Courts, yet different somehow, far more subtle indeed… Asha!" a loud _squeak_ of surprised fright made Vile chuckle lowly as Mel's sister finished with easy grace, "The way his vocal magic behaves, is it alike what House Elves use to protect their charges?"

Out of the hedge, a short figure stepped; she wore a small poncho of bright green which partially hid a satchel and belt containing a variety of tools that helped the young House-Elf in her duties around the Manor. Her skin was darker than British House-Elves, and her ears were pierced near their pointed tips with small hoops of silver, a common affectation amongst Elves enslaved to the Ottoman Empire.

Brought to Britain as a babe by her father Rafiq, Asha usually kept out from underfoot where the denizens of Walnut Manor were concerned, content to move about unseen as she aided in the sprawling building's upkeep; nonetheless, Rafiq had trained his daughter in defensive magics due to the revenant's persistence, and all the Fae, Griffons and Merrow of the Walnut Court treated the House-Elf, whose dark hair was always in a beautiful braid, with the utmost respect.

That she was the one who'd fixed the plumbing had much to do with the young Elf's reputation amongst the Exiled Court, in Melfina's honest opinion.

Wringing her hands, Asha replied eagerly yet hesitantly, with a vigorous nod that made her long ears flap, "Oh yes, Madame Librarian! Young Master James' way of speaking is… being _close_ to how House-Elves protects their masters… but," Asha frowned a little, an odd expression for a House-Elf, and, after glancing about warily, murmured, "…They be listening, Ladies and Lords of Walnut Manor."

Melfina stiffened, quickly asking, "Who? Who is listening?" Lisanna glanced about casually, but none of the Fae were eavesdropping, knowing better than to ear-farm their Landlady's conversations, and the Griffons and Merrow were both departed to their duties and homes.

Pursing her lips, Asha beckoned to the leaders of the Court and Vileclaw; once they'd leaned in closer, the female House-Elf glanced at the Sapling and whispered to both Fae and Goblin, "Spirits, Sirs and Missies. They be hearing young master James' voice, and be hearkening to it. The Sapling be singing louder because of this, Asha thinks, and her papa agrees."

Blinking in pleasant surprise at this news, Mel turned her senses to listening to the Sapling; her soul was still unformed and fluid, happy for the moment with immersing itself into the Garden's inherent magic…

But where before there was a chiming, keening sound, there were now undertones of nature! A distant rumble of thunderstorm over a wide, calm sea provided the melody for a rudimentary, ululating aria that spoke to Melfina's most primitive side; not the animal, but who she'd been before attaining her position of Scribe: the romantic, the idealist, the indomitable presence that impressed her fellow Scribes so and, ultimately, ensured her eventual Exile.

It was the furthest thing from unpleasant, and it left Melfina with a feeling of 'home' in her soul and magic.

 _'He caused the Sapling to stir with but a short tale!'_ thought Landlady with awe; even at her best, even with both her fellow Scribes assisting, she'd not been able to influence the Sapling at all, for all these years!

Truly, a Shaman was as impressive as the old stories said.

"Well," drawled Cookie with small humor; looking to him, Melfina saw the pink-haired Faerie sticking that long silver pipe of his between pointed teeth, an eager gleam in his steely eyes, "I now wonder what themes he'll sing, and how the Triplets will grow at his side."

An old pain flared in Mel's chest, remembering how the Triplets had been orphaned, and the curse laid on her by Winter; she dismissed both, as such woolgathering was pointless here. The three were happier, as was her entire Court, since James' arrival. It now fell to their Landlady to ensure this happiness didn't die out.

"Never-mind, for now. We have work to do."

 **.**

 **[..|..]**

 **.**

A fortnight after that first reading, as evening approached on the appropriate Friday of the week, Lisanna the Librarian left her demesne with the intention of dragging a wayward Shaman and his kitsune familiar to their lessons on Glamour, followed by the basics of Transfiguration, by their ears if need be.

Not that the powerful former Unseelie was annoyed by the young human in question, nor the bubbly fox at his side; far from it! In the past weeks James had related further on the tale written by this great Story-Spinner, Tolkien, who was apparently quite the renowned author; how he'd escaped the Librarian's notice could be easily attributed to her unfortunate ignorance where the Mundane world was concerned.

Lisanna blamed the advent of Muggle industry, which disgusted her to no end. Polluting the skies and choking the trees just so they could move faster across the world, _bah_ and _fie!_

Happily, Vileclaw, with Melfina's assistance (and wasn't _that_ a development, her sister's eagerness to assist the aged grump), found several old paperbacks in his vast coffers which related another section of Tolkien's tale; dubbed _The Lord of the Rings_ , old Vile admitted they were an early Saturnalia gift from young Remus, shortly after the Werewolf began wintering on the Manor's grounds seven years ago. The three small books were, therefore, skimmed before being forgotten amongst Vile's multitudinous baubles and trinkets.

The last was hardly a surprise, in the Librarian's disgusted opinion; _why_ dear Mel continued to allow the rock-munching little shite forbid Lisanna's assistance in cataloguing and preserving the many priceless pieces of literary history, gathering dust and rotting within his halls…

It made her wings itch and ears burn, it did, to know such relics and wonders were lying just out of reach, neglected by that… that... _pack-rat!_

Happily, James' relating of the Spring of Arda, and the creation of the Two Trees of Valinor, and of the secrets of Iluvatar concerning Men and Elves, these things kept Lisanna from seeking out a kelpie or travelling abroad to hunt a manticore, as was her previous mode of stress relief. The visions the Shaman-

(and his kitsune, Vera, whose happy voice read of 'trees like unto mountains' and other bright passages, to the surprised joy of the Fae: a kitsune, bringing a story to the ears of the Faerie! Who would have thought or guessed at such a happening?!)

-wove for the Walnut Court, beneath the great namesake at the Manor's center, were more than enough for Lisa's heart to calm and cool in the face of denied knowledge.

That Cookie, Rafiq and Asha took the occasions as an excuse to prepare delightful picnics certainly helped.

But this day was the Friday at the beginning of the month of September, and was marked by many happenings: t'was the First of the month, and the leylines of Britain were, this morn, agitated by parents bringing their children to the Hogwarts Express; the previous night had been the finale of the Moon's most recent cycle, and a new cycle would begin tonight as silver Luna began waxing once more; and, finally and most importantly, three weeks from now was the Autumnal Equinox, and would be marked by a waning Quarter Moon.

These portents meant that spent magic was rich and thrumming through the hills, dells and downs of Great Britain, and would for at least a month, as had been the norm for time immemorial since Hogwarts' founding. Which also meant, with the revenant being pinned by Yavanna (apt name that, Lisanna felt once the appropriate tale was related by James and Vera's readings), the Walnut Court's harvest would be more bountiful than the last decade at least!

Additionally, Lisa mused as she approached the closed door to James and Vera's apartment, she might actually get the Shaman and Bonded Spirit to accomplish what neither human nor kitsune, in all history, had been able to do before: weave a Faerie Glamour from ambient magic.

James was already capable of becoming invisible (and, most interestingly, Melfina and Lisanna discovered this ability was also tied into a minor Notice-Me-Not), as was Vera by extension, but neither were able to change their appearance at will.

 _Yet_ , that is, for Lisanna felt confident, given the pair's seemingly effortless ability to draw on ambient magic for their works, that Shaman and kitsune could prove the old Faerie sages wrong and accomplish the impossible.

Then she could return to the Winter Court, present her findings, and rub that smug bitch Mab's fat nose in it!

Not bothering to knock, Lisanna threw the door to James' door wide with a mock-annoyed statement, "When I set a time for your lessons, Shaman, I _expect_ to… be… heeded?" which trailed off into incomprehension at the sight before her.

James was looking at her with wide eyes, his robes bunched about the beltline, and the Triplets were each holding a short paintbrush; they'd painted esoteric Runes (which the Librarian, to her irritation, didn't recognize) all over his bare arms and equally bare torso like winding snakes. About the Shaman's eyes and brow, a five-headed serpentine creature was painted amidst the shining scale-patterned kohl: the central head, positioned betwixt the boy's eyebrows, was looking straight ahead, whilst the other four were looking outward on the left and right, both up and down. His staff was laid next to his kneeling seat, the rattle on the coffee table before him, where reams of parchment, strewn with countless notes and inky pawprints, weighed the furniture down.

Then there was the kitsune, who was _also_ painted with kohl, save in the image of roiling waves, and there were little ropes, festooned with simple bells, nuts-in-the-shell, and small clay tablets etched with Eastern characters tied on her tails and ankles, and about her neck; a scaly weave of silver kohl decorated her own wide, surprised orbs as she perked up on her seat amidst the many notes and papers.

The Triplets were, thankfully, not decorated in such ways, but she saw their chosen instruments (a flute for Louie, Snapper's lute, and Breech's set of bagpipes) laid out on one of James' couches; oh, and each was holding a small piece of parchment with those unusual Runes drawn on, and were dressed as though for festival, with small daisy-chains crowning their heads.

Lisanna… did not know how to react to this sight most odd, so she just stared at the young Faerie clique, who'd frozen in place over James' shoulders and chest at the Librarian's entrance, and _frowned_. With displeasure.

After a deep, anxious breath, Breech looked at the Shaman's chest and squeaked, "Yeah, I think we done got everything, James!" and the little Fae flitted over to her bagpipes after depositing her brush in a cup of water, her brothers following her example with likewise statements.

"Ah, err, brilliant!" stammered out James as his mind caught up with his eyes, taking up his staff and shrugging his robes back on, though he left his chest bare, "Librarian, good evening! Sorry, but I can't make our lessons this eve-"

"Fie and nonsense, boy," whispered Lisa in barely-restrained upset, staring at the young human's chest; there were faint scars there, hinting at the Shaman's troubled past as Harry Potter, but the lad was building up nicely with regular meals and exercise.

Not that this tempered the Librarian's furor much as she hissed through clenched teeth, "What do those Runes do, where did you find them, and what in the _Seasons_ are you five up to?"

It was Vera who answered happily, as she strode to her Shaman's legs with purpose, "They're Parsel-Runes, and they'll protect James an' me from harm. We learned them from Khepri in the Fade," went on the kitsune mercilessly as Lisanna felt a headache forming, "And we're off to send that revenant packing!" and the little furball nodded, like that was that!

Which it most certainly _was not_ , not if Lisanna had anything to say of it! "You may have misinterpreted my query, kitsune," hissed the Librarian coldly, making the Water Spirit gulp and move a little closer to James, who wilted slightly, "so I shall ask again: what. Do. The. Runes. Do?"

"Ah," began James, the young man looking understandably nervous, "They're meant to keep any Dark influences or ambient magic from harming me or Vera," Lisanna nodded slowly, committing several of the strange Runes to memory, "Um, and the kohl mask, it's called the Hydra," he indicated the scaly whirls, which were _moving_ slightly, "It protects from… uh, other Dark stuff, that can affect my mind, see, and helps correct my vision a little, though I still need glasses," he finished with a humored frown.

The Librarian digested the young Shaman's words with folded arms and narrowed eyes, _'Parsel-Runes. Like Parseltongue, but as a magical language in the mode of Elder Futhark and Celt. Fascinating.'_ Making a mental note to have James explain the syntax and uses to her at a later time, Lisanna asked aloud, but with less coldness, "And you believe that some Runes and kohl will ensure victory in battle over the revenant?" Folly, no matter their response.

If a revenant could be defeated through force of arms, they wouldn't be such a grave threat, and none of the Exiles would have been slain.

To her not inconsiderable surprise, James shook his head and smiled sadly, "No, Librarian. We're not going to fight him."

The kitsune at his ankles nodded swiftly and seriously, "We're gonna set him free!"

That… was _not_ what she wanted to hear. Therefore, Lisanna glared at the Triplets and asked, "Detail what you are about to attempt, _now_."

Breech flinched at the last word, but stood up straight and proud as she replied for her clique, "Yavanna's been puttin' down magic the whole time she's been sat there, right? Well," the little Fae shrugged when Lisanna gave a single nod in reply, "James an' Vera are gonna use that to break the enchantment keepin' the thing bound…" she glanced at James with a frown, "Uh, how's that work again?"

James sighed and looked ruefully at Lisanna, "I checked a couple books about types of undead, and it said a revenant was a, and this is a quote, 'willing, hateful soul that's been bound to a fleshy prison', unquote. But _this_ revenant, according to Yavanna, wasn't willing when he was made," and the young Shaman knelt to adjust a couple of the rattles on Vera's body…

While said kitsune took up the thread of the story, "So, seeing as me an' James are Shaman and familiar, and we got a connection to Yavanna-"

That was all Lisanna needed; she was a tree sprite by birth, after all, "You intend to use the natural, raw magic that Yavanna has been saturating the stables with, and break the revenant's body?" happy nods were had all around, the clique, Shaman and kitsune clearly delighted the older Faerie understood.

However, this only added to the Librarian's headache. The Court which found Walnut Manor and its surrounding lands had tried just such a thing, not long after their arrival; however, after losing two Scribes and over thirty lesser Fae making such an attempt, Melfina, Lisanna and Cookie felt a physical barrier was the better measure, at least until they could find a way to destroy the filthy thing.

On the other hand, James was Shaman; tales of the Old World abounded on what such beings were capable of, from Khepri to Jander to Archimedes to the heroes and villains of the Black Decade. They were figures spoken of in the same breath as the High Dragons and Grand Magi.

And these were as nothing to the spurious myths and legends surrounding Atlantis, and the Winter Endless following its fall, which pre-dated the rule of Mab and Titania by _myrietes_ *****.

Additionally, there was Yavanna to consider; a greater Spirit of Compassion was nothing to scoff at. One might argue that such a Spirit, called by a Shaman and bound into a Nature avatar, would be the absolute nemesis of any undead creature. There was also the fact that the three Scribes hadn't tried the Nature approach since the failed attempt, partly because of the pain of loss that sat as scars upon their hearts, and because the Silver Sapling hadn't matured.

James was Shaman, and Vera, while young, was quite talented. With the Triplets backing them up (the method they'd use probably required music, if the physical evidence said anything), and Yavanna to guide their hands and magic, they may just succeed in this endeavor.

Even so, there was one last matter the Librarian needed to clarify, and did so quietly, in a severe tone, "The creature, whether willing or no, slaughtered many of our kind, and has hampered the renewal of these lands to such an extent that the whole remains injured, as it has poisoned each of our attempts in the same way Melkor poisoned the Spring of Arda," James nodded in understanding, as did Vera, but neither relented in their near-pugnacious visages of surety, even when Lisa hissed out, "I cannot forgive that, James. _Melfina_ , though she is far kinder than I, grieved for every life lost, every branch and twig carefully nurtured only to fall to this thing's poison… she will not forgive the beast for spilling the blood of her Court.

"Knowing this, and knowing that I _believe_ you when you say the soul pinned therein has done these things unwillingly, I ask you, Shaman, kitsune: what shall become of this troubled soul?"

Lisanna expected another long-winded explanation, or for the Shaman and kitsune to begin digging furiously though their notes, or for the Triplets to brag and bluster.

She did _not_ expect the Triplets to congregate about the kitsune, the Sprit letting the trio ride her as one would a beast of burden…

And, out of James' satchel, the Shaman withdrew a branch and held it up, without a word, for Lisanna the Librarian's shocked inspection.

A sprig of mistletoe.

 _The Bough of Gold._

For the first time in many, _many_ centuries, Lisanna spluttered, "You… _cannot_ be serious!"

"It will work," there was no inflection in young James' tone, merely a statement of fact, as though he were no mere boy, but a seasoned wizard who had faced such foes dozens of times.

…given that he was Shaman, and the peculiarities of the Fade, however…

But Lisanna had a Court to protect. Melfina was their leader, and Lisanna was the equivalent of her Knight.

So when she spoke, it was with authority, "This day was not chosen by accident or whim?" negative head shakes were had, though there was impatience in their bearings; the Librarian understood. The Sun was setting.

"Very well," she relented at last, marshalling her magic for what would come, "On the condition that I and the senior members of the Court, along with what guards will stand fast, shall oversee your work."

James nodded, though a change was coming over him, a… peace, Lisa presumed, "Then go and prepare, Librarian… oh and," he looked the bashful child once more, "sorry for springing this on you so sudden and all."

But Lisanna only grinned, all teeth, "Should you succeed in this battle, James Stormcaller, Vera Stream-Strider, Triplets, and those of the Sunless Lands not take offense to your trespass, the Walnut Court will sing the tale of your life, long after you have gone to Gaia's side. I have waited for this day for far too long. Now," she stood out of their way, "Go. I must rouse the Court."

And they left the room with brisk haste, heading for the Gardens, leaving Lisanna to her thoughts.

 _'They will likely detour about the Sapling before approaching the stables, so our young Shaman and his kitsune will have the pure magic for this task,'_ Lisanna smiled brightly before heading to the windows, a musical whistle leaving her teeth; with a grey flash, she wore the masterwork wooden cuirass, gauntlets, greaves and helm the near-one-thousand-year-old Scribe wore in the Realm of Twilight.

Oak dark and gleaming with power, it fitted her body perfectly as Lisanna threw the blue window wide and launched herself into the sky, summoning her rime-coated bident with a vengeful laugh that echoed over the Manor. The revenant, the hated foe of her Court, would fall this eve!

She felt Melfina's eye on her, and a query along the ethereal strings of magic that bound the three Faerie Scribes together; at the Librarian's response, Lisa felt both her siblings in all but blood spring into action, Cookie directing the House-Elves to seal off the kitchens and Mel darting away to fetch Vileclaw, as the old Goblin would relish a good challenge. And if he died? Ha! The old Gob would see it as a good end, to die in battle; in this way only was he a typical Goblin, and that, if nothing else, commanded Lisanna's respect.

But this was far from her mind. Drawing a breath of air and magic, Lisanna the Librarian called out to her fellow Faerie guards, and their griffon counterparts, "TO ARMS! SURROUND THE STABLES, FOR THE BEAST SHALL FALL THIS EVE! THE SHAMAN COMES TO BANISH IT FROM MUNDUS! IT HAS SEEN ITS LAST SUNRISE! TO ARMS!"

A cry of righteousness and purpose was her answer, the Faeries and Griffons who long stood vigilant about the stables beating their wings loudly in support; primal shrieks came from the nearby lake, the Merrow therein sending their best to protect the small streams that wound their way to the Gardens, its arboreal green shining bright as Gregory let life and magic flow into the forests.

The golden beacon of Yavanna shone brighter for it, and the revenant cried out hatefully, to Lisanna's pleasure.

Her wasp wings beat hard as she shot away from the Manor, aiming for a tree within sight of the stables where she could intervene, should James' and Vera's plan go to pot; as Melfina arrived with Vileclaw in tow and Cookie appeared beneath her perch with a burst of Spring-scented magic, the Librarian sent a prayer to Gaia even as she explained the plan to her fellows, _'Look with favor on your son, Mother of All, as he goes to do your will_.'

 **[..|..]**

James was afraid.

Even after last night, when he and Vera dreamt in the Fade once more, seeking Khepri's guidance and wisdom, a thorn of fear had dug into his heart and refused to yield.

A week ago, he'd finally found a book that told of revenants, _The Great Explorer's Handbook_ by Hansel Kopernik; they were scary, James thought, and it underlined just how strong the one here was, to defy all attempts at ousting by the Faerie who called this Manor home.

It assuaged him that this one wasn't, apparently, capable of speech, but it was still classed XXXX, on par with things like a Manticore or Griffon (he hadn't met any of the former, but the latter seemed nice enough). Vera's water wouldn't be able to wash it away, and James wasn't strong enough to break the spells keeping the soul bound to the monster's body. Not alone.

 _"Trust in Yavanna, James. Trust in yourself, and in Vera. Gaia stands with you, my dears. Sing, and set this right."_

Even with Khepri's warm words, even with his friends following dutifully, even with Yavanna's light warming him as they left the Gardens and approached the broken axle, and even knowing that the song he planned to sing should do the trick…

James still felt afraid. Not of the revenant, no, but of the power he'd stumbled upon.

In the span of just over a month, he'd gone from being a starving boy who lived in a boot cupboard, to a friend of Nature, _Shaman_. He'd thought that his problems would be solved, but it'd only complicated things; James felt small, even with the expectant and encouraging feeling of the surrounding lands warming his skin in the increasingly-misty twilight…

Speaking of which… "Hey Breech?"

"Y-yeah?" her voice was higher-pitched than usual, but still brave.

"Do these lands have a name?" he'd never heard them speak of a general name for this place, beyond each of the landmarks contained within.

It was Snapper who answered, looking up from tuning his lute, "Nah. No one could ever agree on a name when we Faeries got here…"

Louie picked up from where his brother trailed off, "And with the revenant here, no one could find a name that was fitting."

Breech finished, "That, an' Landlady didn't want to give this place a name till it got banished." And she looked at the golden glow ahead with determination, whispering, "So we gotta do this, we _gotta_ …"

Vera nodded sharply, eyes more serious than James had ever seen, "Yep! We'll sing and play and send him on his way, and then we'll give these lands a name!"

"How 'bout Valinor?" Louie suggested, taking out a small strip of cloth, "Y'know, after the story?"

But James smiled and shook his head, "No, we've got no mountains…" then he cleared his mind, reaching out with his Senses to Yavanna while the Triplets prepared their blindfolds, "We'll talk about it later. Once we're done."

Coming up to his ankles as they continued forward and the Triplets darted away to settle on Yavanna's withers, Vera murmured, "You're scared." It wasn't a question.

Swallowing, James nodded once, but kept walking forward, "I'd be stupid not to be afraid, Vera. You're scared too." He knew it. He could feel it through their Bond.

"Ya-huh," his fox-sister whispered, but she didn't break her even, determined stride, "Mima'd probably put me in a whirlpool for doin' this without an older kitsune watching," but then she smiled up at James, hope blossoming in their hearts as Yavanna came into view, "But you're here, an' so's Yavanna, so I'm not so scared."

Smiling back at her, James nodded, "Same here."

The revenant howled, its Dark influence beating against Yavanna's preparations; it was for naught, James knew. Yavanna _was_ the land.

Her nine tails wove behind her in a halo of green-gold, the Triplets already congregated on her back with their blindfolds firmly in place; they'd all agreed, given what they were going to attempt, that it would be better for the three Fae to have as few distractions as possible.

James and Vera weren't as worried. Once the song began, they'd enter a trance that would better allow them to harness the power of Gaia and use Yavanna's gathered magic. But even then, the rattle, the staff and Vera's tails weren't enough for their plan, hence the Triplet's assistance.

They had two missions, here. They needed to break all the enchantments, both Wizard- and Faerie-made, that were either on the stables or the revenant; this would destroy its physical body and allow Yavanna to purify its lingering essence.

The second part of this mission… James put it from his mind, as they came around Yavanna's bulk and stood once more before the chains. The time for second-guessing and hesitation was past.

Before them, the revenant was pacing in front of the stables, the chains encircling the place pulsing brightly; it waved its greatblade about when it spotted James and Vera, a dumpster-scented wave of magic ripping toward them. The black spell died before it could reach the chains… and the thorny rose vines that were snaking towards it, the thick green growths sporting buds that hadn't yet bloomed, weaving their way in every direction toward the furious undead.

Cookie was the first Scribe either of them spotted, standing off to James' left, staring at the creature with the coldest look he'd ever seen on the moth-winged Fae; Lisanna was to his right, to the west, a terrible bident clutched in her now-armored claws, pyrite eyes shining with barely-restrained fury.

Melfina and Vileclaw were behind him; the old Goblin was wearing shining steel plate, and was carrying a red-bladed battle-axe, face hidden by a masked helm that gave the impression of a snarling tiger. By contrast, the Landlady was wearing fine ice-blue robes, but the sapphire-encrusted short-sword in her hand sent a chill down his spine.

When her concerned eyes met James', he smiled warmly before turning back to face the revenant, which still looked quite miffed, a pulse of black rot thrumming from its body stopped by the vines Yavanna was sending under the chains, their rotted lengths feeding those that came behind.

James knew Landlady wanted to protect him, but he felt compelled to help her as well. Why, she'd given him a place to stay, to _live_ , to be himself and learn about the world, a world that was far older and stranger than he'd ever suspected!

In this, he'd repay her kindness one hundredfold!

Yavanna was the one who pinned the revenant. It was James and Vera who needed to deal with it on a more permanent basis.

Taking one more deep breath and letting it out slowly, James saw the setting sun blaze through the trees, accompanied by a warm wind; the Dark of the revenant made it seem dim, but that wouldn't last.

"Ready, everyone?" a chorus of yesses answered James' softly asked question. He drew the rattle, and said at last, "Count us off please, Vera."

Six taps of her tail later, James banished the last of his fear and brought his staff down with a low _thump_ , shaking his rattle with the other hand.

As Breech let out a melody on her bagpipes amidst the sound of wind and Yavanna's form shivered and gleamed, James and Vera let their minds be subsumed into the magic around them so they could better direct it…

And the song began.

 **[..O..]**

The revenant howled at the haunting melody of bagpipe and rattles, lute and flute, and the soft drumming of Yavanna's tails against the loam, swinging its blade side to side, trying in vain to stave off the encroaching vines, but Melfina was barely paying attention to that.

Rather, her eyes were for the boy Shaman and the young kitsune; as they danced and created a music so soothing and pure to ear and heart. The rose vines grew about her chains at their melodies, leaving trails of rust.

She hadn't agreed to this, hadn't known of it until Lisa's declaration, but neither would she have thought such a thing possible: to unbind the revenant before guiding the soul trapped therein to the Sunless Lands. So she let her power bleed away from the chains, and hoped the boy Shaman knew what he was doing.

If it came to the worst… she'd sell her life dearly, to protect her Court.

The light of the setting Sun seemed to shine all the brighter, and Vileclaw moved closer to her, and she to him, as golden mists began to form about the stables

Water chimed through the air as Vera's tails sent a cloud of droplets over the chains; they encircled the stables, much to the trapped beast's snarling chagrin, just before James' solemn and childish voice keenly sang as Breech's pipes faded:

 _Still 'round the corner, there may wait…_

He pointed his staff to the revenant, then to the west, as Vera twirled and clattered about his ankles, singing the next verse herself.

 _A new road or a secret gate…_

Both Shaman and kitsune spun away from each other, Yavanna's tails bringing a melodious wind, the chains beginning to _hiss_ from the rust forming on them, the revenant now beating against the encroaching vines with one hand, trying to dislodge its ensnared sword with the other.

The pair sang together, the sound rapture to Melfina's ears:

 _And though we pass them by to~day…  
Tomorrow, we may come this way,_  
 _And take the hidden paths that run!_

James, on the left (east) side of Yavanna, pointed his staff that way, and a silver shine came through the trees, which, to Mel's shock, the revenant cowered from! _'They can do it!'_

 _Toward the Moon…_

Vera, like a hound, pointed an elbow to the west, and the bright light that painted the sky a riot of colors.

 _or to the Sun!_

All through this, there was a haunting yet beautiful shiver of music that came both from the Triplets and Yavanna, from both Vera and James, who, even through the lyrics they uttered, never stopped playing.

It filled Melfina with awe, seeing the bright lights and rose vine wrapping about the revenant, tearing at her chains; the thing _screamed_ a sound that sent claws down her spine, but the fear and anguish were washed away as James waved his staff over the chains, pointing it right at the revenant with the last of his next slowly sung verse.

 _Apple, thorn and nut and sloe:  
Let them go! Le~et them go~!_

With one last cry, the revenant was enveloped in golden fire, the vines binding it in place crumbling to ash as the undead's body was destroyed…

An echoing _crack_ , like a lake of ice thawing in Spring, snapped against every ear…

Leaving behind the ghost of a cowering man; he was dressed as a wizard of times now long past, to Mel's eye. _'Like what people wore when we arrived!'_ this explained much; according to Lisa, who was looking absolutely _gobsmacked_ some ways away, the older a revenant was, the stronger it became.

The poor soul now cowering amidst the retreating vines (and Mel realized that her chains had been shattered! Ah, well, it's not like she liked them anyway) likely hadn't been a revenant for very long before being bound to Walnut Manor's grounds. Once this was over, they could, perhaps, discover the reason for it being here.

She'd ask, but Mel wouldn't dare for two reasons: one, Vile would never let her hear the end of it, and two, Shaman and kitsune weren't done.

Into the now unchained clearing Vera bounded, the silvery ghost flinching as she landed before him and sang slowly, merrily, kindly:

 _Sand and stone and pool and dell:  
Fare you well! Fa~are you well!_

Yavanna howled, the wonderful sound heralding further music from Shaman, kitsune and Triplets, a beautiful, primal song that filled more than one eye with tears, though few were shed, those present vigilant despite the revenant's physical destruction.

Then the golden and silver lights faded, and a cloying mist hid the stables proper from view. The ghost suddenly cried out, prostrating himself (and t'was a he indeed, though he was thankfully clothed) before James and Vera and begging, quietly and pleadingly, for mercy.

And Melfina understood the purpose of the sprig of mistletoe tucked into James' belt.

"Eyes on the ground, _now_ ," she commanded in a whisper that didn't carry to those dancing in the clearing; Melfina knew all the old legends, from all the corners of Mundus, and she knew which were true and which were merely fable or hearsay.

The Tragedy of Orpheus was of the former.

Out of the mist came the sound of water lapping upon a rocky shore, and through Melfina's bangs she _saw it!_ A rotted dock, a haggard figure approaching on a boat, gnarled hands curled about an oar as ancient as stories, old as the bones of the Earth.

Tartarus. Charon the Ferryman.

Her hand found Vile's, which gripped her own in tight comfort, though she could hear her friend whispering his own prayers to Stone as she wished with all her heart for Charon to ply his trade and leave her people and demesne unmolested.

And then James sang again, standing between the weeping ghost and the vision of Tartarus' gate, his young face stern but empathic, _caring_ , and these things showed forth in his voice:

 _Home is behind, the world ahead…_

Those same emotions were echoed as Vera twirled and danced to stand beside her Shaman:

 _And there are many paths to tread._

Turning suddenly, James whipped the Bough of Gold from his belt and sent it sailing at the now-docked Ferryman; a gust of warm wind carried it into the surprised shade's free hand, accompanied by James and Vera singing together once more, voices seeming to rise to the very heavens, sending a strange sensation through Melfina:

 _Through Shadows! To the Edge of Night~!  
Until the Stars… are all alight…_

Charon looked up, meeting James' gaze as the Shaman raised his rattle in outstretched palm at the vision, as though to ward Tartarus off… and the Ferryman's ancient, wrinkled features seemed to smile in understanding, and it lit a warmth in Melfina that nearly forced her to tears.

 _Mist and Twilight! Cloud and Shade!_

The Ferryman used his oar to push off the dock, paddling away from the gate, the Bough of Gold glowing on his rope belt. The vision of Tartarus faded, becoming veiled in mist once more at James' young voice, and then Vera finished, softly, gently, as the ghost stared in awe:

 _Away shall fade… Away~ sha~all fade…_

James' staff came down, tapping the soil at his feet. Both Shaman and kitsune stared into the mists, from which a golden glow began to take form; above, against the sky, a kaleidoscope of colors painted the scene in a light to put the Aurora to shame. The playing of the Triplets, the humming and drumming of Yavanna, the soothing flow of Vera's dance, and the soft shaking of James' rattle: all these came together in a glorious symphony, a requiem that bespoke forgiveness, empathy, and _love_.

And Melfina watched, hand in hand with Vileclaw, and listened, and felt her heart _soar_ as it had not soared in many years; but behind this rapturous feeling, this perfect moment in her life, the Landlady was of two minds.

First was that, in spite of this event being sprung upon her with little warning, Mel had long expected James and Vera to take a crack at the fiend who'd caused her and her Court such grief. Verily, she was grateful for their presence, for Yavanna, and she knew, as surely as she knew every leaf and twig in her fief, that the boy would exceed every expectation she'd set.

He would be great, a force to shake the world. But not with blade, nor rod or crown, but with his kindness. Mel prayed he never lost this innocence, this selflessness before her.

Second, she wondered, with much confusion: if he didn't plan to send the ghost, who was looking at James' back as the child raised his staff once more, to Tartarus (and such a fate was earned, willing in the Dark or not, in Melfina's opinion), then where…?

The staff came down with a soft tap.

And the golden mist _flared_ , parting suddenly to reveal…

Melfina threw herself prostrate against the ground as a **searing** light filled the clearing, Lisanna and her fellow guardians following this action with a cry of shock and awe and soul-crushing _fear_. Through it all, Mel's hand never left Vileclaw's, who'd taken a knee, his weapon falling to the dirt at the same time as her own sword.

Terror beyond any she'd felt, and she'd faced the Winter Queen's displeasure, filled Melfina as the burning light seemed to scour away even the music, bringing a supernatural silence to all the land. Through her bangs and frightened tears, Melfina beheld a sight she would never forget, even should she live ten thousand years, and another ten again.

The ghost's hands were clasped in prayer amid the shining gold wheat stalks that'd replaced the grass of the stables; further, the tip of James' staff was bright as Polaris, the rattle in his hand nearly lost as it glowed as gold as the grain about the lad, and Vera's blue and white shone like Sirius, the pair standing side by side, radiant and beautiful before a _greater_ radiance, the source of the burning light…

Melfina did not look directly upon it, for it was too bright. More than this, she knew what she was seeing: for all Charon was the gatekeeper to Tartarus, he was still lesser than what hovered before and above Shaman and kitsune, framed in the mists.

Feathers edged the light, _countless_ and constantly moving. A presence seemed to gaze upon the clearing, and, in that moment, Melfina felt the immortal being's gaze fix upon the three standing amidst the grain.

She prayed for the third time in twice as many minutes, here at the edge of night.

She prayed the Archon of Elysium would not take offense to James' trespass.

But it seemed that the Archon did not see this as trespass. For, after a moment that seemed both a handful of seconds and a blind eternity, it vanished, taking the burning light with it…

And a breeze, warm and comforting and _rapturous_ , blew over all the gathering. The golden wheat seemed to march from the clearing's edge vanish into the far distance, an endless field of bounty, out of which came _whispers_ , like leaves blown in a warm Autumn wind, tinged with curiosity and hope. Figures appeared, both young and old, and Melfina the Landlady felt her heart leap into her throat as the ghost's head jerked in recognition.

As this happened, James and Vera both turned and began approaching the ghost of the revenant once more; the rattle was stowed in a belt loop and Vera pranced ahead of James, a blue-edged tail rising to wipe a tear from the ghost's face. The kitsune's face was full of understanding, and James' features bespoke what he felt in his heart.

What was happening here, to James, was _right_.

As Melfina slowly rose, looking at the nearest glittering stalks in absolute shock, James _took the ghost by the armpit_ , his physical body levering the ethereal being to his feet as easily as if they were solid, and sang with a bright smile into the continuing music:

 _With world behind…_

Movement, in the fields. Melfina's seafoam eyes found it quickly: a small figure had jerked forward. So far away were they, the gathered whisperers, she couldn't make them out clearly from her kneeling on the ground…

Vera wove about the grain before leaping onto her Shaman's back, the ghost staring at the pair in wonder as the kitsune sang brightly:

 _…and home ahead…_

The small figure in the mist jerked again, and a child's call came, desperate and longing, distant but clear, like leaves scattering before the Autumn wind, " _Papa!_ "

The ghost's face whipped up at the call, and it took an uncertain, hopeful step forward, as though it dared not hope for the absolution before it.

And Melfina's vision was obscured of the rest, as she lost the fight with her tears. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling an empathic sob, and she felt Vile's arm take hers in comfort.

She knew not what brought the revenant here, what bound it to the land, or what had caused the destruction of Walnut Manor, but she swore she would discover it. She swore to the Seasons, in that moment, she'd find the descendants of the ones who created this revenant and tore a family apart and _prank the living daylights_ out of their next seven generations!

And she promised herself to always have a warm bed available, to the end of her days, in case James and Vera needed somewhere to rest after the journeys she knew the inquisitive duo would embark on.

James pushed the ghost's shoulder with his staff, urging him on with a nod and another softly sung verse, Vera joining happily:

 _We wander back to home and bed._

The ghost looked between James, Melfina, and the distant child, who'd broken away from the other figures, and was running for the gate.

Then his mouth moved, the words too quiet to hear, but James merely nodded, and Vera waved a tail with a smile.

And, like a bolting deer, the ghost turned and ran into the holy light. As he went, the silver light of a ghost faded, and was replaced with a glittering sheen.

But the mist was rising once more, and the warmth was fading with the slowing of the music. A part of Melfina didn't want it to end, to stay forever in this moment; she ignored it, and listened to James and Vera sing together once more, their voices bespeaking glory and kindness no mere mortal could give. The Shaman's arms were raised, and Vera seemed a gleaming sapphire on his shoulder:

 _Fire and lamp and meat and bread!_

Then Vera giggled, licked her smiling Shaman's cheek and asked brightly, eyes shining with tears of her own, "And then to bed?"

James laughed wetly back, and kissed his familiar's cheek. He raised his staff once more….

 _And the~en… to bed._

It came down with a soft _pat_. And there was silence, the last note of the pipes drifting away on a warm wind that caressed all present. The Sun set, but a silver glow seemed to come from every tree, every blade of grass, and Yavanna glowed like a lantern, her face tilted back in pride as she looked on her summoners while they collected themselves.

Furiously wiping away her tears, Melfina struggled to her feet, Vile helping gently as her breathing quickened, both in happiness and slightly hysteric denial: near a quarter _millennium_ of this thing gnawing at her roots, ended in _moments_!

In spite of her disbelief, there it was before her: emerald-green grass, ivy vines climbing all over the clean (clean!) but still ruined stables, and the dead trees that'd littered the revenant's pen were outright _gone_ , small saplings already rising from the soil! The echoing, metallic taint that'd hounded her and all her Court, night and day, was nowhere to be felt!

And there, in the middle of the clearing, was a fully bloomed tiger lily ruby-red and shining bright with dew.

"Woof," James breathed, shaking his head and rubbing a temple, drawing Mel's attention back to him and the grinning kitsune on his shoulder, "That was pretty hard, huh Vera?"

The little water kitsune huffed, drawing herself up and waving her three tails – ' _THREE TAILS?!_ ' Mel thought, jaw dropping in shock – dismissively, "Nah, James, not as tough as bringing Yavanna here!"

"Wait, what?!" Breech's tinny call came from Yavanna's shoulder; the Nature avatar turned so the Triplets could have a better view. The three were busily trying to get their blindfolds off; Breech was first, and looked into the clearing for all of two seconds before cheering, "OH, BRILLIANT! WE DID IT! LANDLADY!" Melfina's gobsmacked face turned to gaze at Bree's wide grin, her brothers quickly sporting matching grins as their blindfolds joined their sister's on the avatar's back, "WE DID IT! THE REVENANT'S DONE FOR! OO-DE-LALLY!"

That shook Mel from her disbelieving stupefaction; as the three young Fae fell to Yavanna's back in a cheering group hug, more cheers, of Fae, Merrow, and griffon, began rising.

Melfina felt her chest shaking; for a moment, she thought she was weeping, until the sound began leaving her mouth: a carefree, joyous laugh. Their bane was gone! She grinned down at Vile, who'd removed his mask to reveal his own smiling face and kiss her hand.

"Oh, _fie!_ " she snapped with a smile, snatching her hand away from the Goblin… and giving him a right proper kiss! Then she rose up on her wings and cheered herself, letting her magic unfurl into the land freely, laughing at the absence of any Darkness, while the blushing Gob below her raised his axe and gave a cry of victory!

"Whoa!" the cheers and laughter paused at James' call, and Melfina saw the reason: his staff was vibrating and glowing brightly, Vera's watching with shock in her wide eyes, tails whipping fearfully.

Lisanna's sharp order came, then, as a keening sound came out of the staff and James' face turned red from keeping the magic from going wild, "BOY, DITCH IT!"

James obeyed, flinging the staff toward Yavanna and hitting the dirt, covering Vera's body with his own as other cries of alarm went out, the Triplets buzzing away swiftly!

The Nature avatar took the staff in a tail and covered it on the ground.

 _Whumph!_

And a spark of green-gold magic burst from the tail; Yavanna's eyes widened slightly before she raised the appendage, revealing the split staff: it wasn't blackened anywhere, but it was certainly destroyed, the item now in four splintered pieces. The velvet-wrapped malachite was whole, as was the fabric, but the first split in the staff was barely inches away from the head.

"Aw, blast!" moaned James, picking up Vera and approaching warily, along with everyone else, "I mean, I figured that'd be too much for it to handle, but I liked that staff…"

Lisanna huffed dismissively, "Take the malachite and the velvet. I will prepare a display case for the rest. After all," and Melfina saw her fellow Scribe smile freely for the first time since their Exile, "it helped you bring purity to these lands, and should be honored thusly!" An agreeing cheer came from all, which made James, who now had the Triplets dancing on his hat, blush brightly.

As Melfina called for a feast of celebration, the expected happened: Vera noticed her third tail.

"JAMES!" she interrupted Mel with shocked happiness, "MY TAIL! I GOT MY THIRD TAIL!" and she flowed out of his arms and began bouncing rapidly around his bare feet in the clean grass, chanting excitedly, "I GOT MY TAIL! I GOT MY TAIL! I GOT MY – oof!"

And she ran into Yavanna's cart-sized paw. The avatar huffed and shook her head in exasperated amusement, an act repeated by the rest of the gathered guardians and peoples of the Manor, though Melfina simply laughed at the merriment.

"Oh, Vera, not again!"

"Hehe, oops!"

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 **[..|..]**

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 **a/n:**

 **WOOO! Longest chapter yet!**

 **Granted, about 1500 words of that is the ruddy _essay_ I wrote as a historic entry, but all-in-all, I needed to go into greater-than-usual detail to breathe life into this chapter, and, boy, was that a challenge!**

 **Subsequent chapters won't be as long as this one, and if the ending feels rushed, _sorry_. I wanted to get this chapter out yesterday, but stuff came up.**

 **On the bright side, there won't be a chapter as long as this until near the end (looking like, maybe, ten to twelve more chapters before we get to Hogwarts, YAY!), and the next few will be less magic-oriented, and more James just trying to have a childhood, so there'll be less "rushed out" and more "oh hey, this is nice". It's going to be _adorable_.**

 **Now for the responses!**

 **Nega Mewtwo: Yeah, they're quite wonderful, especially in the cultural myths they originate from! Quite the pranksters, them! I _have_ considered writing my own original work, and… well, there's personal and pragmatic reasons why I _haven't_. Yet. We'll see what the future brings! Thanks for reviewing!**

 **ElementalMaster16: Magic can be applied with: wand, staff, sympathetic (wandless, has to do more with Chakras and evocative emotions than 'magical cores'), Runic and, for Shamans, a Spirit-rattle. There are _a lot_ of other rules that govern the various types magic and how it can be applied, some of which are rather more like guidelines. Melfina, to be fairly honest, is kind of in over her own head when it comes to James and what he can do _without_ a proper grounding in theory; honestly, the only thing stopping her from calling Remus for help is… well, we'll find that out in two chapters, won't we? Thanks for reviewing (and I'm typing as fast as my nervous system allows!)!**

 **Ghostcrab311: Remember that historic entry about the Statute and the Jacobite rebellion, a few chapters back? We're not done with the revenant, and it has its own story, but that'll be an aside to James' story, which we'll be focusing on for most of the remaining chapters. Thanks for the review (the last bit gave me a giggle)!**

 **Deathodreary: I'm glad you like how the story's going! This chapter was (sort-of) a ritual, but not really. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **L'assassin orange: A special case! And… you do me great honor, thank you! I hope you liked the chapter!**

 **nbop: O.O A "must read" acclamation?! From Orochi-kun no less?! Thank you for your praise!**

 **mizzrazz72: Or that's what it's been programed to do. I haven't really touched on what the Dark does yet, beyond Peresphone's warning at the story's start. There's a reason for this, which will become clearer as time goes on. Thanks for reviewing, once more!**

 **Mr. Jack Skellington: Oh, not the mythology. Chapter 3 historic entry. And, after listening to that laugh, _pfft,_ yeah, a seven-tailed kitsune laughing at Ottomans, I can see it!**

 **theawesomest5: That was still good! Thanks for the review!**

 **ZelotOneShotter, elvander72, JMK2, KnowPein, ArthurShade, eliteshadow, frisbeeg70 and Ratus (hopefully not of unusual size…), and all 356 faves and 471 follows (at time of posting)**

 **THANK YOU!**

I'll see you all when the next chapter is polished and finished! Until then!

~Baked


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